I Promise
by J0
Summary: COMPLETE! R for sex, language, violence. Steve meets CG's new surgeon at a fundraiser & falls in love. He's shot, she becomes his Dr. & tries to put their relationship on hold. He recovers, & they start over. Will nightmares from her past end it all?
1. The Morning After

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction, written and meant to be read strictly for enjoyment. The main characters of Mark, Steve, Amanda, and Jesse, as well as others from the series Diagnosis Murder, are property of CBS/Viacom. Other disclaimers will appear in this space in the chapters where they apply.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Chapter 1. August 14. Malibu. Early morning.)  
  
Steve Sloan sighed contentedly in his sleep. He was having one of those near-waking dreams, the kind where he was aware that he was dreaming and could control what happened. He was at the cabin where he and his dad sometimes went fishing, only this time he wasn't with his dad. He was with the delightful young woman he had met last night.  
  
They were walking through the clearing between the lake and the cabin. The scent of wildflowers hung heavy in the air, and her laughter bubbled like the dozens of small streams that fed the lake. The sun on her curly red hair gave her a fiery halo, and freckles dappled her cheeks and nose like shadows through the trees.  
  
Now they were inside the cabin, in bed. It didn't matter how they got there, Steve liked the direction this dream was heading. They were wrestling, and Steve was letting her win. He didn't mind a bit; he was having fun. Her delicate frame was surprisingly strong. She'd rolled him over onto his belly and pinned his right arm beneath him. Then she climbed onto his back, pressed a knee into the base of his spine, wrapped her left arm under and around his, forced his face into the pillow and...  
  
...the hard coldness of a gun barrel pressing against the bone behind his right ear brought him suddenly, sickeningly awake. The quiet click of a safety being released tied his guts in knots. His face was buried in the pillow, and he was sure if he wasn't shot or released soon he would suffocate. This was no dream.  
  
A dry voice rasped in his ear, "I'm going to let you up enough to breathe. Struggle for even a second or make a sound and I promise I will redecorate this room with gray matter. Got it?"  
  
He nodded as best he could and felt the pulling of fingers coiled tightly in his hair. The pressure on his head and neck eased slightly. He could just glimpse the nightstand where he put his gun when he went to bed. The holster was empty. Aw, hell.  
  
The voice again: "Where are we?"  
  
"My bedroom."  
  
The barrel of the gun rapped him sharply behind the ear. "Duh. You have two seconds to give me more information."  
  
"My dad's beach house in Malibu. I live in the downstairs apartment. We're right between the Pacific Ocean and the Pacific Coast Highway."  
  
"How did we get here?"  
  
He craned his neck to see who "we" were. A few locks of copper-colored hair and a creamy white shoulder scattered with cinnamon freckles left him dumb. The girl of his dreams was real and holding him at gunpoint with his own weapon.  
  
The gun barrel dug deep into his skull and ... Olivia? Yes, that was her name. Olivia said, "You won't live long enough to hear me ask a question twice."  
  
"It's kind of a long story."  
  
"Then give me the comic book version."  
  
"My dad introduced us at the hospital charity banquet last night. You were taking pain medication for a sprained ankle. The waiter messed up your drink order and brought you a real margarita instead of the non-alcoholic version you asked for. You didn't taste the liquor until you'd already had enough to make you sick. I gave you a ride home."  
  
There was what seemed to be a thoughtful pause. Steve's arms were going numb, and he tried to shift to make himself more comfortable. The gun whacked him behind the ear again.  
  
"Move again if you want to die."  
  
Steve laid there, heart thudding in his chest wondering what would come next. Maybe Jesse was right about his knack for picking up psycho-babes, but then again, his dad had introduced him to Olivia. Hell, his dad had *hired* Olivia. She was supposed to be the best orthopedic surgeon in the country, and his dad had been astounded that she had chosen to work at Community General instead of Cedars Sinai or one of the other high-profile hospitals in the state.  
  
"Why your home?"  
  
"I'm sorry?" Now Steve was confused. "I don't understand the question."  
  
"You said you gave me a ride home."  
  
"Oh. You've only been in town two days, three, now, and between the medication and the alcohol, you couldn't remember how to get home. You couldn't remember your address and had nothing with you to tell where you lived, just the key to your front door. I guess you like to travel light. You were too sick for me to leave you at a hotel, so I figured I'd bring you here where I could make you more comfortable."  
  
"How very chivalrous."  
  
"Steve, you up yet?"  
  
Olivia shoved his face into the pillows and whispered, "Who's that?"  
  
"My dad."  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"Answer him!" She eased up just enough to free his nose and mouth.  
  
"Yeah, Dad, I'm up."  
  
"Whaddya want for breakfast?"  
  
His face was shoved into the pillow again before he could answer, and Olivia hissed in his ear, "Tell him to surprise you. If he makes a suggestion, say 'whatever.' If you let him come in here, you're both dead."  
  
The pressure on his neck and head eased again and he called out, as casually as he could, "Oh, I don't know, Dad. Why don't you surprise me?"  
  
"How 'bout an omelet?"  
  
"Whatever, Dad."  
  
"Ok. I'll call you when it's ready."  
  
"Thank him," she ordered.  
  
"Thanks, Dad." She shoved his face into the pillow again. He had to hand it to Olivia; she certainly was in control of the situation. She was scripting his responses so he couldn't say or omit anything that might make his dad suspicious. If he had ordered oatmeal, the situation would be very different. His dad would know something weird was going on. Steve had never been able to choke down the gooey stuff. His dad would have come downstairs asking a million questions from what was the joke to when did he suddenly begin liking oatmeal.  
  
"Who's your dad?"  
  
"Dr. Mark Sloan."  
  
The gun pressed harder again. "More information. What should that name mean to me?"  
  
"He's your boss. He introduced us last night. When you got sick, he asked me to look after you." Things changed subtly then. Olivia somehow became more menacing. The silence now was angry, not thoughtful.  
  
When she broke the silence, it was with a voice oozing sarcasm, "Nice try, handsome. You almost had me. I've tried a lot of crazy things, but even I wouldn't be stupid enough to do my boss's son right under his nose. You can only lie to me for so long, handsome, and you just got busted. You are the weakest link. Goodbye."  
  
"Oh, God! No! Please!" The words came out in whispered shouts. Steve tried to fight, but his left arm was numb from being twisted above and behind his head. His right arm was pinned, and his legs were numb from the knee in his back.  
  
"We didn't have sex. We just slept in the same bed. You're wearing my pajamas because you didn't want to ruin your dress and I slept in here with you because you didn't want to put me out of my own bed and you were afraid to sleep on the couch because you sleepwalk and didn't want to wander off in a strange place or into the ocean or worse." Steve figured as long as he was talking he was alive.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"I was protecting you."  
  
"Steve, we're out of orange juice. Want apple juice instead?"  
  
"Say yes."  
  
"Yeah, Dad, that sounds good." Then he whispered, "Please don't shoot me." He was frightened for his dad as well as himself, and he wasn't above begging for his life. He didn't want to die like this, for nothing, because of a stupid misunderstanding. He couldn't tell now whether the silence was thoughtful or deadly. He decided to fill it.  
  
"Please don't shoot me," he whispered again. "Ask me some more questions. I promise it will all make sense to you soon. Please."  
  
He heard a sigh and felt the tension ease. "Where are my clothes?"  
  
"Your dress is hanging in the closet and your other things are on the chair under the desk."  
  
He felt her weight shift off his back, his left arm was free, and he could turn his head. He considered making a grab for the gun, but suddenly felt the wind rush out of him as Olivia kicked him hard in the ribs and sent him to the floor with a thump.  
  
He was up on all fours in less than a heartbeat, but the barrel of the gun was pointed directly between his eyes. The strange thing was, Steve couldn't tell if the lizards crawling in his stomach were the result of death waiting just inches from his face or from the sight of his many-sizes- too-big pajama top sliding off her thin shoulders.  
  
"Steve, you ok down there? What was that noise?"  
  
"You're ok. You tripped."  
  
"I'm ok, Dad. Just stumbled over some dirty laundry."  
  
"You wouldn't have that problem if you'd put it in the hamper when you take it off."  
  
"Yeah, I know, Dad."  
  
The gun rapped him in the forehead. "The next time you ad lib, I shoot. Got it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Show me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My dress, my clothes."  
  
Steve opened the closet door beside him and pulled out a shimmering, silvery-green silk dress. It still smelled sweetly of lavender, and in his mind's eye, he could still see her curves filling it out. "It matches your eyes."  
  
"Where's the rest?"  
  
He couldn't figure Olivia's fascination with her own clothes, but he was willing to comply. "I'll have to walk around the bed to get to them."  
  
"Do it slowly. Hands on your head, facing the wall."  
  
He did as he was told, always aware of his own gun at his back. When he got to the desk, he pulled out the chair and turned it around to show a neatly folded pile of underclothes. The black silky panties and lacey black bra made something happen inside his chest and some other parts of him. He could almost imagine that body in those clothes. The hose were folded neatly together and placed on top of the rest. He heard another sigh.  
  
"Well, it certainly appears that I took them off willingly enough," she said in a thoughtful tone.  
  
So, she was looking for signs of a struggle. "You were so sick last night, Olivia," Steve said sympathetically. When she didn't order him to shut up, he continued. "I told you to just leave your things, but you insisted that you should pick up after yourself, and you said you paid too much for that dress to leave it in a heap."  
  
She laughed. "That's for sure. It sounds like something I'd say. Come back to the foot of the bed, turn around, and face me."  
  
Again, he complied.  
  
"Why do you have a nine-millimeter on your nightstand?"  
  
"I'm a cop, a homicide detective. I can show you my badge and ID if you'll let me get them out of my pants." He could see her spine stiffen when he said he was a cop. Great, she didn't like cops.  
  
"Save it," she said coldly. "A badge doesn't make a good cop or a good man, and you wouldn't be the first monster I've met hiding behind a shiny gold shield."  
  
"Steve! Breakfast!"  
  
"You'll be right there."  
  
"I'll be right there, Dad!"  
  
"You say your dad's a doctor."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A medical doctor?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"And he's my new boss?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Get him down here, and tell him to bring his bag."  
  
"No." Steve nodded toward the gun. "Not while you're holding that."  
  
Olivia pursed her lips in thought. "You've got some nerve, arguing with a frightened, drugged up woman with a gun, but you're protecting your dad. I respect that."  
  
Then she put the safety back on, took out the clip, cleared the chamber, and tossed the clip and the loose bullet to Steve. Holding up the gun, she said, "I keep this, you keep those. Neither one of us can shoot the other. I know what my new boss looks like, and you seem to favor him. If the man I'm looking for comes through that door, I give you the gun. If not, you're in for the fight of your life. I know how to defend myself and I will fight dirty. Agreed?"  
  
"Agreed."  
  
"Get him."  
  
Steve crossed the room, opened the door, and shouted up the stairs, "Dad! I need your help! It's urgent! Bring your bag!" 


	2. The Night Before

(Chapter 2. August 14. Still Malibu. Still morning.)  
  
Mark entered the room at a dead run and stopped short. "What's the...." his eyes traveled from Steve to the gun to Olivia and back to Steve again...."matter Steve?"  
  
Steve just gestured vaguely at the pretty redhead in his bed as if her mere presence would explain everything.  
  
"Dr. Regis, Steve, what in the world is going on here?"  
  
Olivia dropped her head, and taking the gun by the barrel handed it over to Steve. "I, uh, I don't exactly know, sir, but I think I just got myself fired faster than any doctor in history."  
  
Steve tried to explain. "She must have blacked out, Dad. You know how sick she was last night. Well, she couldn't remember how to get to her own place, so I brought her back here to look after her. She doesn't remember a thing about it."  
  
"And she was holding a gun on you because..."  
  
Here Olivia jumped in. "I woke up sharing a stranger's bed, in a house I'd never seen before, wearing someone else's clothes, with a sore ankle and no recollection of how or why I got here, sir. There was a gun on the nightstand. I didn't know why it was there. My first and only concern was staying alive, sir."  
  
"Did he tell you he was a policeman?" Mark asked while taking her pulse.  
  
"Yes, sir, but I don't know him, and while I am sure you believe your son would never, ever hurt me, I know... knew... know... other cops who would, so that information wasn't exactly comforting, sir." Olivia held a hand to her forehead and rocked back and forth slightly. There was nothing in her of the confident, stellar young surgeon Mark had hired just days ago.  
  
Looking at Steve as he inflated the blood pressure cuff, he asked, "Just how sick was she when you brought her home?"  
  
Steve answered tightly, "Very. All over the inside of my truck. Several times. And in the bathroom, too."  
  
"Sorry 'bout that. I'll clean it up later." Olivia's voice was low and soft. Apparently, the adrenaline rush that allowed her to subdue Steve was finally wearing off. She looked incredibly small and helpless. Steve couldn't help but feel sorry for her.  
  
"Don't worry about it." Steve started to put the clip back in his gun as his dad continued to examine Olivia. "Hey, there's still a round in here."  
  
Olivia looked up and said, "I told you I'd fight dirty."  
  
"Yeah, but I saw you clear the chamber."  
  
"You *thought* you saw me clear the chamber. If you look, the loose bullet I tossed you came from the clip."  
  
Steve counted the bullets in the clip, gave Olivia a half-grin and said, "That's pretty sneaky."  
  
"If you'd lived my life, you'd understand why."  
  
"Well," Mark said, his examination complete, "You seem to be mostly ok. Pulse was a little fast at first, but it has slowed down some, and your blood pressure is low, probably due to dehydration from throwing up last night. I'm sure your blood sugar has bottomed out, too, but the good news is all of this is easier to fix than that sore ankle. Steve, go upstairs and get her a glass of orange juice, would you?"  
  
"You're out, sir."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Olivia, how do you know that?"  
  
"You called down to Steve while you were fixing breakfast, sir. You asked if he wanted apple juice instead."  
  
"Oh. Well, how does some apple juice sound, then?"  
  
"Fine, thank you, sir."  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"I'm on it, Dad."  
  
As Steve left, Mark tried to put the poor girl at ease. She seemed so alone right now. "Look, Olivia, I'm not going to fire you, and I doubt that Steve will press charges given the circumstances. You can stop calling me sir."  
  
"Yes, sir." Olivia managed a weak smile. "I mean no, sir. Uh, what should I call you, sir?"  
  
With a wink, he said, "How about Mark?"  
  
"Ok. Mark." She smiled shyly.  
  
"Now, I want you to lay back and take it easy. Once you get some food in you, we'll see about a shower and a change of clothes. I'm sure there must be something around here that will fit better than those pajamas."  
  
"Yes, sir...I mean, Mark." There was an awkward silence. Mark let it stretch until Olivia finally said, "This is really embarrassing. I know this looks bad." A single tear slid down her ghost-pale cheek. "I'd like to tell you nothing happened. I'd like to tell you I did nothing wrong, but I don't remember. It's kind of scary."  
  
"I imagine it is," Mark agreed. "Look, Olivia, I know my son, and he wouldn't take advantage of the situation. If he brought you here, it was to protect you from yourself."  
  
Olivia nodded. "He said I told him I sleepwalk and I was afraid of wandering into the ocean. So he stayed with me last night."  
  
"And do you sleepwalk?"  
  
She nodded again, "Sometimes."  
  
"Then that's why he was with you. His uncle Stacey is a sleepwalker, too, and a while back it landed him in some serious trouble. I'm sure Steve was just looking out for you. Now, what's the last thing you remember?"  
  
"W-well," she paused, took a deep breath, and continued in a steadier voice. "The last thing I remember is standing on my couch to hang a picture on the wall of my office and when I stepped down, I lost my balance, turned my ankle and dropped like a sack full of wet cement." After a pause, she grinned slightly and added, "I think I even heard a splat."  
  
"I'll bet," Mark agreed with a chuckle. "That was before lunch yesterday. What else do you recall?"  
  
Olivia thought a bit, "It hurt so bad I saw stars. I crawled to the phone and called the hospital operator. She connected me with the ER. They sent an orderly with a wheel chair to take me down for treatment. I saw some kid, a real sweet guy. Jamie...Joey..."  
  
"Jesse?" Steve volunteered as he came back into the room with a heavily laden tray. Mark stood up and gave Steve room to set the tray over Olivia's lap.  
  
"Travis, yeah. How'd you know?"  
  
"You called him a kid, and he's the only doctor in the ER anyone would think of as a kid. He and I are business partners at a restaurant in town," Steve said as he sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
"I see. Well, that's interesting."  
  
"Yeah. He was awestruck by meeting you in person and actually being permitted to treat your ankle yesterday. He must have told me about it three times over lunch."  
  
Olivia shook her head and ran her fingers through her coppery hair. "Awestruck? By me?"  
  
"Jesse's been quite a fan of yours for a while," Mark told her. "In any ER you see a lot of orthopedic injuries, and he's been pressing for a couple of months now to get the hospital to support a research program to try and duplicate some of your results. Of course the board's been stonewalling him all this time because they knew Dr. Battle was going to retire and you were looking to move west."  
  
"I see." Olivia's eyebrows knit together. "So, they were planning to court my favor all along."  
  
Mark nodded, "Of course, they never really expected you to sign on. We're not really a research hospital, and they fully expected you to go somewhere with a bigger reputation."  
  
"Wish I had known that before I signed my contract," she said pensively. "I might have made a few more demands." Changing her tone, she continued, "Well if Jesse feels that way, why didn't he just come around and introduce himself? I would have enjoyed meeting him more if I hadn't been in such pain."  
  
"I think he was afraid of embarrassing himself," Steve explained, "He'd been reading all your old articles so that when he did bump into you on the hall he would sound informed."  
  
"Oh. I see. You know, I get so tired of people who are afraid to stand naked before God."  
  
When she saw the look that passed between Steve and his dad, she did a quick mental rewind. "I know you understand what I'm saying. It's one of my daddy's expressions. You really want to impress someone you admire so you pretend to be more than you are. You know...Adam and Eve ate the apple, then became aware of their nakedness, then ashamed of it, then they dressed in fig leaves because..."  
  
"They were afraid to stand naked before God," Mark and Steve finished in unison as understanding crossed their faces.  
  
"Exactly. Anyway, so many people know my work, and they think they know me. They expect this authority on orthopedic medicine who has the answer to everything, and that's just not me. I know what's been published, but the rest is intuition. I'm just muddling along like everyone else. Sometimes it intimidates me because I can't be what they're looking for. Look, Mark, that Dr. Travis seems like a great kid. If he really is interested in my research, why don't you arrange for us to sort of accidentally meet again soon? That way he won't have so much time to worry about impressing me. As a matter of fact, he already has."  
  
"Oh, I think I can manage that," Mark agreed. Finally, he noticed the fresh flower in a vase and the vast quantity of food on the tray Steve had brought and decided to excuse himself. "As a matter of fact, I think Jesse said something about coming out surfing today. I better call and let him know our plans have changed but he's welcome anyway. Son, you make sure she eats a good breakfast."  
  
"I will, Dad."  
  
Patting Olivia's arm, Mark said, "You see what else you can remember and then try to get some rest."  
  
After Mark left, Olivia asked Steve, "Do you think he'd leave us alone together if he knew what had been going on just before he came in?"  
  
"Probably not," Steve said softly as he gently rubbed her calf, "Just seeing you with my gun upset him enough. I don't think he needs to know how close you came to killing me, do you?"  
  
Olivia hung her head and shrugged her shoulders. Steve reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He saw two tears trailing down her cheeks. "Hey, hey, now," he said in a soothing voice. "There's no need for that. No harm, no foul. C'mon, eat your breakfast, it'll make you feel better."  
  
She gave him a sly half-smile and said, "You must think I have a hollow leg. I couldn't possibly eat all this."  
  
Steve blushed slightly. "Well, I was kind of hungry, too."  
  
"I see, well, where's your plate?"  
  
"There's only room for one on the tray. I, uh, figured we could split it?" He reddened a bit more.  
  
"Oh. And you're expecting me to hand-feed you like a servant girl of ancient Rome or something? I am sorry, but that simply is not going to happen." Then she saw it, a full, flaming, burning red blush, from the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair.  
  
Steve could feel his face warming. "I, uh, well, I ...Look, I brought two sets of silverware. I'll just go up and get another plate."  
  
Before he could move, she rested a hand lightly on his thigh. "Don't go. We'll make do. Besides you're kind of cute when you're embarrassed."  
  
He looked up to meet her eyes and found her grinning wickedly. "You did that on purpose!"  
  
"Well, yeah. But you're still cute."  
  
Steve couldn't believe the mood swings she seemed to have. Maybe she was...no, she was *not* another psycho-babe. It was just fatigue and low blood sugar. Besides, she had a great sense of humor. "You know, you told me that last night, too."  
  
"Did I? Well, don't let it go to your head." She took her knife, divided the omelet down the middle, and laid the bacon between the two portions. "Now which half do you want?"  
  
All Steve could do was laugh and shake his head and dig in.  
  
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Olivia said, "Steve?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Tell me about last night."  
  
Steve shoveled in another mouthful of eggs, chewed, and swallowed.  
  
"There's not much to tell, really. You heard what I said to Dad. That's about it."  
  
She spoke again, this time in a commanding tone.  
  
"Look, you told your dad I blacked out, and I think that's the truth. The last thing I recall is lying down on the couch in my office for a nap before the party. I've blacked out several times before, and it always scares the beans out of me."  
  
At Steve's look of concern, she said, "This is only the second time the booze has done it. All the other times were due to emotional stress."  
  
His frown deepened, and she said, "Life has never been easy for me. That's all I'm going to say right now."  
  
With a wary look, Steve agreed, "Ok. Go on."  
  
"I've lost what, about twenty hours? I want to know what happened, even if I embarrassed myself or offended people. I need to know. I can't stand being in the dark."  
  
Steve nodded, and said, "All right, what do you want to know?"  
  
"Anything you can tell me."  
  
Steve grinned, "Ok, if you're sure you want to hear this."  
  
"I am."  
  
"Well, Jesse came by and told me there was someone who wanted to meet me and that she had very flattering things to say. He also said you were sick, and explained why, and said Dad wanted me to keep an eye on you, but didn't want to embarrass you by asking right in front of you when he introduced us. Then, Dad brought you over to me and said, 'Steve, this is Dr. Olivia Regis, our new orthopedic surgeon I was telling you about, and Dr. Regis, this 'gorgeous hunk of man' as you said, is my son, Steve. I'm sure you can see the family resemblance.'"  
  
Steve was satisfied to see her blush crimson.  
  
"Ohmigod," she breathed. "I'm so embarrassed."  
  
"Why," he asked defensively. "Because now that you're not drunk I'm not gorgeous."  
  
She turned redder and said, "It's hardly that. I'm just not usually that…outspoken."  
  
Grinning, Steve said, "Well, thank you, and just for your information, if you're always going to be that complimentary, please feel free to speak out whenever you want."  
  
She started to giggle, and he had to laugh.  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Well, you were an entertaining drunk, even after you got sick. You were very witty. Of course, there's a fichus tree in the hospital lobby that will never be the same."  
  
"Oh, not again."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"I'm told I killed a potted plant years ago when I was in a similar condition."  
  
Steve laughed, and said, "I can just imagine."  
  
"I'm not a habitual drunk, mind you. I probably have less than one drink a week. In fact, the last time I was intoxicated was when I killed that fichus…seventeen years ago."  
  
Steve shook his head and said, "I believe you. No regular drinker would have been hit that hard, that fast by one drink. Even if she was on medication."  
  
"So, what happened after I killed the plant?"  
  
"I took you out to my truck and offered you a ride home, but you got us lost in the wrong part of town, and I decided it was best to bring you here. You were so miserable, I didn't want to leave you alone."  
  
"Such a gentleman. Did I really get sick in the truck?"  
  
"Yes, but I don't want to think about that, now. I'll take care of it later."  
  
"No," Olivia said, "*I'll* take care of it later."  
  
"Whatever. You were a courteous guest, cleaned up after yourself, and even managed to flatter me and compliment the décor while your head was in the toilet. We got in bed after a brief argument about who would sleep where, you went out like a light, and I told you the rest at gunpoint."  
  
He saw her cringe at the comment and said, "Relax. It was a joke."  
  
"Not a very good one. I nearly killed you, I was that scared."  
  
Steve felt a chill. He could tell from her tone, she really meant it. She didn't just think she meant it, she *really* meant it. He shook himself, picked up the tray, and said, "Well, now you've had your breakfast, I think you should get some more rest. You were very sick last night, and some more sleep will do you good."  
  
She complied meekly and hunkered down under the covers, but as he turned to go, she said, "Sit with me till I fall asleep."  
  
Steve put the tray on the desk, and sat beside her, rubbing slow circles on her back. 


	3. Wonderland

(Chapter 3. August 14. Still Malibu. After lunch.)  
  
"I'm telling you, Jess, she's just amazing." Steve was on hold. It was the sixth call he had made trying to find Olivia's realtor. During breakfast, they had determined that Olivia had completely forgotten her new address. After she went back to sleep, Mark went to the hospital to check on some patients, and while he was there, he checked with the hospital personnel office to see if she'd changed the address on her records. Finding no luck there, he called Steve and Jesse to tell them to start checking with realtors. They had spent the past three hours making calls looking for the person who had sold Olivia her house.  
  
"She greets everything with this wild sense of humor. Last night she was kneeling on the floor, leaning her head against the toilet bowl. I was sitting on the edge of the tub just in case she needed me, and do you know what she said? 'I don't usually spill my guts to strangers this easily, but you're cute when you're worried.' She doesn't 'spill her guts' and she's throwing up in my bathroom."  
  
"Yeah, Steve, that sounds absolutely charming," Jesse said sarcastically. "Only you would be attracted to a woman puking in your toilet. To me it sounds like she's another psycho. I mean, look what happened this morning. The first thing she does when she wakes up is find a gun and decide, 'Hey, I'll stick this in his ear and threaten his life.' She's nuts."  
  
"Jess, she was just protecting herself. The gun was right out in the open on my nightstand, it's not like she went looking for it. And she didn't even remember meeting me. Besides, I think she had a bad experience in her past."  
  
"Yeah, maybe with some acid or some magic mushrooms. If she fried her brain, that would explain why she doesn't remember anything."  
  
"I don't know what happened, but I don't think it was drugs. She seems too wholesome for that, and too…" Steve searched for the word. "…innocent. The way she acted, it seemed like she'd been in a similar situation before. Like it wasn't the first time she'd had to defend herself."  
  
"Be that as it may Steve, she still threatened to kill you this morning. There is a fine line between genius and insanity, and she's way over on the other side of it. I think--"  
  
Steve held up a hand and shushed him. "Yes, Dr. Olivia Regis. Fourteen seven eighty-three West Dorothy Street? We're coming from Malibu. Take a left onto South Bundy, uh-huh. Turn left, two blocks down on the left. Thank you very much. Yes, you have a nice day, too."  
  
Steve hung up the phone and shouted down the stairs, "I've got it. It's in Brentwood, not far from the country club."  
  
A melodic voice carried up the stairs, "Hooray! Thank you so much. Where are the towels? Oh, never mind, I found them." After breakfast in bed with Steve, Olivia had settled back for a few more hours rest. Now she was finally ready to face the day and seemed anxious to get to her new home and start unpacking.  
  
Steve went back to the table and started helping Jesse gather up the phone books and other paraphernalia they had been using to help track down Olivia's house. "You know, yesterday you were thrilled to have met her."  
  
"Yeah, that was before she tried to kill you. She's off around the bend, Steve, and I think you should put as much distance as you can between you and her as fast as possible."  
  
As he heard the downstairs bedroom door close, Steve admonished Jesse in a low voice, "She did not try to kill me, and I don't care what you think. Be nice. She's had a really rough twenty-four hours."  
  
"I still think she's nuts."  
  
"Dr. Travis!" Olivia called from the head of the stairs. "It's so good to see you again." She was wearing an old tee shirt and some shorts that Steve used to wear in high school. While they fit better than the pajamas, that delicately freckled shoulder was still peeking out. Steve found it unbelievably sexy.  
  
Steve watched, captivated by that shoulder and those eyes, as she worked her peculiar magic on Jesse. She shook his hand warmly. "Thank you for helping Steve find my house." Then, in a child like voice, she said, "I thought I'd lost it for good. If I could just learn to put things back when I was through playing with them this never would have happened."  
  
Jesse knitted his eyebrows for a moment; then he broke into a grin. "It was nothing. I was glad to help. Just try to take better care of your toys in the future."  
  
Olivia flashed a smile that went all the way to her silver-green eyes. "Oh, I will! I promise." She was still hobbling on crutches, but she seemed to be feeling much better. Her complexion was still creamy white, but not pale and her eyes didn't seem so sunken in. With the enthusiasm of a child, she said, "Look, I'm getting around a lot better now than when you last saw me. Thanks for your help yesterday."  
  
"Ah, don't mention it, Dr. Regis," Jesse blushed. "To someone with your background and reputation, I am sure wrapping a sprained ankle is nothing."  
  
"Nonsense!" she patted his arm. "I was in terrible pain and you took care of me. Of course, I never will tap dance again."  
  
With a sly look, Jesse asked, "Could you tap dance before, Dr. Regis?"  
  
"Not a step, Dr. Travis. Not a step. And please do call me Olivia. Dr. Regis sounds terribly formal."  
  
"Ok. Olivia. And you can call me Jesse. I was just telling Steve what a feather in Mark's cap it is to have hired you at Community General. I see where the __Journal of the American Medical Association__ just did an article on the clinic you built in Baltimore. They called you, what was it? 'Arguably the best orthopedic surgeon in the field today.' That's high praise."  
  
"Oh that?" Olivia waved a hand as if swatting away a mosquito. "I know one of the senior editors at __JAMA__. He's an old friend, and he thinks shameless flattery will get me to come work for him. I've already told him that won't happen in this lifetime or the next. Besides, the Baltimore clinic has been run exclusively by my partner for over six months now. I may have suggested some of the practices that were in that article, but Cecil Bonner is the one who made them happen."  
  
"I see. Well, even so, you did some remarkable things there. I've been following your work since I was in med school, and I think it's really great that you're here at CG."  
  
"'Following my work,' eh?" She sent Steve a sneaky glance. "You make me sound like a medical Picasso." Folding her hands on her chest, she batted her eyes and asked, "Have I entered my blue period yet?"  
  
"Uh. No, I guess not," Jesse put on a puzzled face. "Did I offend you?"  
  
She laughed and said, "No, not at all. Unless by 'remarkable things' you meant that some of my patients looked like his __Three Musicians__ or his __Don Quixote__."  
  
"Oh, now that would be bad." Jesse laughed with her as he went to put the phone books away.  
  
Turning to Steve, Olivia asked, "Now, where do I live?"  
  
Steve handed her the address, saying, "It's one of the best neighborhoods in the city. I'm sure you'll be happy there."  
  
"One-four-seven-eight-three West Dorothy Street," Olivia read aloud. "That's appropriate. I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore, after all, huh?"  
  
"It's appropriate, all right," Jesse muttered, not aware that he'd spoken aloud, "but more like Wonderland than Oz, and you're the Mad Hatter."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Well, uh, like you said, you're uh.... not um.... you're not in Kansas anymore, so to speak." Steve had to choke a laugh into a cough. He couldn't bear to watch his friend squirm like this, but he couldn't bear to stop it either. It was just too funny. Olivia was playing it perfectly straight, and poor Jess was struggling to cover his faux pas. "Yeah, um...L.A.... is a whole new place for you. It's not like back east. It's a new and exciting place to start your new research. And it's appropriate that the best surgeon in the city should live in the best neighborhood in town. I'll bet it's a great place."  
  
Jesse stopped talking, obviously hoping that she'd be more interested in talking about her new house than about his blunder.  
  
"Oh, it is pretty nice. It will be great when I'm done with it. And you wouldn't be the first person to think I'm nuts, Jesse. It's ok. I've learned to live with what other people think of me."  
  
Jesse's eyes popped open in amazement, "You were listening?"  
  
Olivia had to laugh. "I wasn't eavesdropping if that's what you mean. Mama always said I had 'ears like a blasted bat.' I was at the bottom of the stairs when I heard you. It's not like you were exactly being guarded in your conversation."  
  
Jesse reddened. "Olivia, I'm sorry. It's just...well..."  
  
"It's just that I threatened to blow your friend's head off."  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"I understand, Jesse. I've had to fight for my life before. The first time I was lucky. Then I decided I'd rather be prepared. Steve's a lot bigger and stronger than I am, so I felt I needed to get the upper hand. I promise I won't try to hurt him again." She smiled sweetly. "Oh, and by the way, what's the first thing you should always do when you discover that you've dug yourself a hole too deep to climb out of?"  
  
"I don't know. What?"  
  
"Stop digging."  
  
She grinned, and Jesse laughed. "Message received."  
  
Olivia flashed another brilliant smile. "Why don't we just start fresh and see if we get along from there?"  
  
"I think I'd like that," Jesse agreed.  
  
Olivia extended her hand. "Dr. Olivia Regis. Pleased to make your acquaintance."  
  
Jesse laughed and shook her hand, "Dr. Jesse Travis. The pleasure is mine." 


	4. Housewarming

(Chapter 4. August 14. Olivia's house. Around five o'clock.)  
  
Steve sat on the floor at Olivia's feet. She was massaging his neck and shoulders. He was amazed at the strength in her small hands. She was so delicate and yet so strong. He idly wondered what kind of life had made her that way.  
  
"Mmm. That feels good." Turning his head, he surveyed the results of his labor. "Looks nice."  
  
"Well, thanks, but you did all the work."  
  
"Yeah, but I was just following orders. You were the brains behind the operation."  
  
After Olivia had helped him clean out his truck, Steve had given her a ride home. The house had been a shambles, with nothing but the bed, a suitcase, and towels unpacked and in place. As she'd stood in her living room surveying the task ahead, knowing that she was going to be disabled by her sprained ankle for at least a week, she'd looked so defeated that Steve felt sorry for her.  
  
"You know," he'd said, "I have the day off and I didn't have any plans to speak of. It looks like you could use a little help. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
She'd laughed and said, "Are you sure you want to offer? Last time you gave me 'a little help' look where it got you."  
  
He'd smiled, indicated the jumble around him, and said, "It got me right here."  
  
He'd spent the day moving furniture for her and helping her put up drapes and unpack. When they were tired of working inside the house, he set up the picnic table on the deck and, with Olivia's permission, invited his dad, Jesse and Amanda to an impromptu housewarming party. Jesse was bringing a meal from BBQ Bob's, and Amanda offered to pick up some dessert.  
  
Now they were waiting for the gang to show up, and she was giving him a marvelous backrub. Usually Steve didn't like to be around touchy-feely people, but for some reason, every time she put her hands on him, he felt a warm sense of comfort and well being radiate through him.  
  
He sighed contentedly as she kneaded his shoulders. There was a pleasant, quiet moment between them. Then the silence suddenly became uneasy as Steve realized there were some questions he wanted answered. He was trying to figure out how to begin when she opened the door for him.  
  
"What is it, Steve?"  
  
He was amazed that she could tell so easily that something was on his mind. "This morning, when I offered to show you my badge and ID, you said something about it not mattering. That it didn't mean I was a good man."  
  
"Uh-huh, and...?"  
  
"Well, I was wondering what that was all about." He heard her take a deep, slow breath, but she didn't say anything. He waited a little longer, but the silence just played out. Finally, he said. "Look, I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it, it's all right. It's really none of my business."  
  
"No, in light of what happened this morning, I would say it certainly is your business. I'm just not sure how much of it I want to retell." There was another long pause as she continued to massage his shoulders. He'd almost given up on getting his answers when she spoke again. "Well, about...twelve years ago...I was...hurt...pretty badly...by a cop. He won't be eligible for parole for a good many years."  
  
"I see. Is that what you meant when you told Jesse you've had to fight for your life before?"  
  
"Yeah, when I was in med school, I had some friends teach me a little self- defense, but after I was hurt, I joined a dojo and a gun club and decided I really needed to learn to look out for myself."  
  
Steve nodded and thought for a moment. "You said 'in light of what happened this morning.' What happened twelve years ago is the reason you... it's why...what I mean is...."  
  
"It's why I threatened to blow your head off?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"Yes, it is. Like I said, I was hurt badly. I'm never going to be a victim again."  
  
"What exactly happened?"  
  
"Look, Steve. Those events are a very dark place in my life. I don't intend to go back there to satisfy your curiosity." She didn't sound angry about his asking, just unwilling to answer. "A man tried to kill a friend of mine and me. I stopped him. He went to jail. If you want to know more, you can check the police and court records in Clearfield County, Pennsylvania. Be my guest. But please don't ask me to talk about it."  
  
"Ok. Can I ask another question?"  
  
"Can I refuse to answer it?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Then ask."  
  
"Would you really have shot me?"  
  
Her grip on his shoulders got stronger, "God forgive me," she whispered, "Yes, and you wouldn't have been the first."  
  
Lucky for Steve, the doorbell rang just then. He never would have been able to think of something appropriate to say back. "Well, it looks like the party's here." He stood up and handed Olivia her crutches. "Want me to get the door?"  
  
"No! These are my first visitors in my new home. I want to let them in myself." Steve laughed a little and let her by. The shadow had already passed and she was acting like a little kid again. Her enthusiasm delighted him.  
  
She opened the front door and Jesse, Mark, and Amanda spilled in to the foyer. "Welcome to Casa Regis. What do you think?" She led them on the grand tour, telling them about many of the things she had used to decorate her home. There were posters from a trip she had made to Europe, old seed advertisements from the farm supply store where her father used to do business, a birds-eye maple bedroom set she had refinished herself. "It used to be six different shades of ugly. I knew I couldn't ruin it, so I decided to find out what was underneath all the varnish and paint and God- alone-knows-what. I guess I got lucky." There were also elephants of every shape and description in every room. "I almost went into veterinary medicine, you know?"  
  
"Really?" Amanda asked. "What changed your mind?"  
  
"I spent a summer helping a traveling circus look after their animals. I learned so much that year. Do you know how they get an elephant to do something when it doesn't want to?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Neither do I," she flashed a wicked grin, "and I just decided that I'd rather be able to reason with my patients."  
  
"I see," Amanda said, "Well, I don't often have that problem myself."  
  
"That's because you have a such a great bedside manner," Olivia told the pathologist with a laugh in her voice. "We could all take lessons from you."  
  
Finally, she led them out to the deck where Steve had set dinner on the picnic table for them. As he helped her settle in her chair and set her crutches out of the way for her, she said, "This looks fantastic. It has been years since I've had ribs. I'll bet they taste even better than they smell."  
  
"Oh, they do," Mark agreed.  
  
"The secret's in the sauce," Jesse said with some pride.  
  
"And the company, I think," Olivia told them.  
  
There were sounds of general agreement as everyone settled around the table. Then Olivia asked, "If you don't mind, I really would like to say grace before we begin."  
  
Mark answered for everyone, "Of course you would, and of course we don't." He reached out for Amanda's and Steve's hands as Amanda reached for Jesse, and Olivia completed the circle by taking hands with Steve and Jesse. They all bowed their heads, and Olivia began.  
  
"Father God, thank You for the food which You have placed before us and the company with whom to enjoy it. Bless the hands that prepared it, and use it to make us strong in Your service." Steve felt her grip on his hand tighten as she continued. "Thank You especially for sending an angel to watch over me last night. He's turned out to be quite helpful, and I'd be lost without him. Amen." Steve felt himself blushing again, but fortunately, no one had any comment.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was nearly 10 pm, and Steve and Olivia had finished unpacking almost everything. The few items that remained were very personal, and Olivia decided she would take care of them herself tomorrow. Now she and Steve were sitting on the front porch swing, sipping iced tea and polishing off the leftover ribs from dinner. Steve had suggested that she elevate her sprained ankle like Jesse had recommended, and when Olivia observed that there was nothing nearby to prop it on, he lifted her legs, turned her around, and settled them in his lap.  
  
She laughed softly in the darkness as she kicked the shoe off her good foot and said, "You know, I have a perfectly good ottoman inside."  
  
"I know, but it's such a beautiful night, and I'd prefer to sit out here and enjoy it with you." He tickled the sole of her good foot, and she squealed. He tickled her again and she kicked him in the ribs.  
  
"Oooff. Want to play rough, do you? We'll see about that." He set their plates on the porch rail and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her, squealing, all the way back into the house, and dumped her softly into bed. Climbing up beside her, he started tickling in earnest.  
  
She fought back, but she was no match for him when he saw it coming. His one massive hand could hold her two small ones out of the way with no trouble. She couldn't help laughing as she cried out, "Oh, God, no! Steve, stop!" When he didn't, she leaned over and bit the hand that was holding both of hers.  
  
"Ow! Hey, that's no fair."  
  
"Oh, don't be such a baby. That was just a little love bite."  
  
Steve's voice dropped in register when he said softly, "Oh, yeah?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
As they stopped struggling, they drew closer, and Steve noticed for the first time that her eyes weren't all green. Near the pupils, they were honey gold. What he saw in those eyes made his breath catch in his throat. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew it boded well for him. He could feel her warm, sweet breath on his face. Her lips were full and soft and beckoning him. He slid a hand into her copper hair and drew her in for a kiss.  
  
As she started to giggle, her hand slipped up to gently cover his lips, and she drew back. Then the same hand slid down to his chest and she pushed him a little farther away. He felt his shoulders sag. He couldn't even pretend that he didn't mind.  
  
"Look, Steve. I think you're a great guy. You've been so helpful, and even under some of the worst circumstances imaginable, you made this a really good day for me. I'm very grateful, but I'm not ready to go there yet."  
  
He nodded, and said, "Ok. I understand," even though he didn't. His stomach washed with acid as he spoke. "I, uh, I'll see myself out. Make sure you lock up, and have a good night." Wrapping what was left of his shredded dignity closely around him, he walked out of the house and got into his truck, never realizing that he had left her crutches on the porch. 


	5. Making Up

(Chapter 5. August 20th. Community General Hospital. Nearly lunch time.)  
  
The steady thump-bump, thump-bump of a patient making good time on crutches announced Dr. Olivia Regis' arrival about ten seconds before she got where she was going. Jesse looked up and smiled, Steve felt his spine stiffen.  
  
"Hi, Steve! Hey, Jesse! I have a question for you about that little girl you referred to me with the roller blade injury." At Jesse's blank look she continued. "Maria Alvarez. Six years old. You treated her yesterday."  
  
"Oh! Yeah! Cute kid. Is she going to be all right?"  
  
"Her knee should heal up fine, Jess, but," Olivia continued in a concerned tone, "I'm not sure she's going to be all right."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, when I was examining her she mentioned something about how every time she came to the hospital she met a different doctor, but I was the first woman. When I checked her records later, I found that she has been through the ER three times in the past four months."  
  
"And you think she's being abused," Jesse concluded.  
  
"Well, she fell down the stairs in May and came in with a concussion. In July, it was a sprained wrist, and now, her knee."  
  
"I can't believe I missed that," Jesse said, shaking his head. "Do you want to call social services?"  
  
"I'm not ready to do that, yet. I would like to talk to the other doctors who treated her first. I haven't met either of them yet, and I was hoping you'd introduce us."  
  
"Sure," Jesse agreed, "Who are they?"  
  
"Evans and...," Olivia furrowed her brow, "...I forget the other name."  
  
"Ok," Jesse said. "I'll just pull up the records on the computer."  
  
As Olivia sighed and leaned into her crutches to follow him, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Wait here, I'll come back to you."  
  
"Thanks, Jess," she gave him a grateful smile. Turning to Steve as Jesse walked away, she said, "How are you doing?"  
  
"Fine." He folded his arms across his chest and studied his watch.  
  
"I haven't seen much of you lately."  
  
"I've been around."  
  
"You know, I've been meaning to..."  
  
"Look at the time," Steve interrupted. "I'm on a case, I've got to go. I'll see you later. Tell Jess I said goodbye." He turned and walked away.  
  
Jesse came back with the chart, "Here we go. Maria Alvarez.... Wh-Where'd Steve go?"  
  
Olivia shrugged her shoulders and mimicked Steve's tone. "He's on a case; he had to go. He said to tell you goodbye."  
  
Jesse gave a puzzled frown and shrugged back at her. "Anyway, Maria's other two doctors were Evans and Macalvie. As it turns out, they both come on duty this afternoon at four. How late were you planning to be here?"  
  
Olivia laughed. "I've already got paperwork to catch up on. I can hang out until they come in."  
  
"Ok. Then I'll introduce you this afternoon." He turned to go back to the ER, but Olivia stopped him.  
  
"Jess?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You know Steve pretty well, right?"  
  
At Jesse's nod, she continued. "Do you think he might be avoiding me?"  
  
"I don't see why he would. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, I don't know exactly," she said in a puzzled voice. "He hasn't said more than three words at a time to me since...well, since he helped me unpack, and he always seems to be leaving just as I am arriving."  
  
"Well, that could be just bad timing," Jesse suggested. "His job does keep him pretty busy."  
  
"I suppose," Olivia admitted, "but..."  
  
"Hi, guys," Amanda called.  
  
"Look, Steve's a pretty straightforward guy. If he had a problem with you, he'd let you know."  
  
"Who does Steve have a problem with?" Amanda asked.  
  
"Olivia thinks he has one with her."  
  
"Nah," Amanda shook her head. "I don't see it."  
  
"If you want me to, I can ask him about it," Jesse offered.  
  
Olivia considered for a moment, then shook her head and said, "No thanks, Jess. I'll just make it a point to talk to him soon. If I want to get to the bottom of this, I have to ask him myself."  
  
"Ok," Amanda said, "Now that that's settled, I'm starving. Who wants lunch?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Me, too."  
  
Jesse and Amanda turned and headed for the elevator to take them to the cafeteria. They had only gone a few steps when they heard Olivia call, "Guys."  
  
They turned and offered apologetic looks as they waited for her to catch up then continued on their way at a slower pace with Olivia thump-bumping along on her crutches between them.  
  
  
  
  
  
At about 5:00 Olivia was in her office dictating notes on several files for her assistant to transcribe in the morning. She was glad to know that she had been mistaken about Maria. Jesse had been so thoughtful to bring Evans and Macalvie to her office. She had been dreading the thought of trekking all the way back to the ER on her crutches. When a familiar figure slipped past her open door, she debated several minutes whether to track Steve down in his dad's office. She finally decided she needed to know what was going on. She pushed to her feet and thump-bumped her way down the hall.  
  
As she came into Mark's outer office, she heard Steve's voice, "It doesn't matter, Dad. Olivia still thinks that's what I wanted."  
  
"Well, did you?"  
  
"Dad!" Steve sounded mortified. When Mark said nothing more, Steve continued. "Not that it's anyone's business, but if it had happened, no, I probably wouldn't have tried to stop it. I don't even know what I expected. We were having fun, and we were laughing, and then there was this quiet moment and I looked into her eyes and....Well, you know what happened then."  
  
"Wish I did." While Steve was talking, Olivia had sidled to the open door of the inner office. She was determined to find out once and for all if Steve was avoiding her and why.  
  
Steve muttered, "Speak of the devil."  
  
"And she will appear, " Olivia finished for him.  
  
Steve got up and headed for the door. "I'll see you at home, Dad." He spoke over his shoulder to Mark without looking where he was going and nearly clothes lined himself on the crutch Olivia had put up to block his way.  
  
"Finally! The danged things are good for something," she said with triumph in her voice. "Mark, I hate to ask you this, but could I use your office to talk to Steve a bit? I'd ask him to come to mine, but with me crippling around like this, I'm afraid he might run away before I got him there."  
  
Mark was already up and heading out his side door. "Not a problem, just put the place back together after you've had it out," he said with a chuckle.  
  
"Dad!" Steve called helplessly as Mark pulled the door shut behind him.  
  
Now Olivia was standing in the other doorway, and as Steve came toward her, she lifted one crutch and pointed it at his chest. "Sit down. We need to talk."  
  
"Look, Olivia, I need to go."  
  
"Yeah, I know. You're on a case," she said sarcastically.  
  
When Steve made no move to take a seat, she raised the crutch threateningly, "Don't think I won't beat you with this."  
  
Steve threw up his hands, rolled his eyes toward heaven, and flopped down sullenly on the couch. The sooner this was over the less painful it would be, and then he could tell his dad he had at least tried to talk with her.  
  
"You've been avoiding me."  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Oh. So, you're a liar and a coward, too. I am disappointed."  
  
"Ok," Steve admitted uncomfortably, "Maybe I have been...trying to...keep some distance between us."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Damn, but she was direct. Steve just shook his head. There was a long, tense silence during which Olivia maneuvered herself directly in front of where Steve sat. After a while she said, "Neither of us is going anywhere until I get an answer."  
  
Steve laughed sarcastically and told her, "If you really don't know, my explaining it to you won't make it any clearer."  
  
She stood firm, lifted her chin, and said, "Try me."  
  
There was another long pause, and finally Steve said, "I wouldn't have wanted you to have sex with me to show your gratitude. I'm not like that."  
  
"What?!" Olivia shrieked. "What in the world would possess you to think I would do something like that?"  
  
"I never thought you would, but you thought I thought you would."  
  
Olivia ran a hand through her coppery hair, and in spite of himself, Steve found the gesture very appealing. She stared at the wall and said, "I'm confused." Now she had both hands in her hair, and she was pulling at it. "Why," she paused and nodded her head. "Would you think," she paused and nodded again. "That I thought," she laid her left hand on her breast. "That you thought," she gestured toward him with her right hand. "That I," she brought her right hand to her breast. "Would have sex with you," she gestured toward Steve with both hands. "To show my gratitude?" She raised both hands in the air and let them fall to her sides.  
  
"Because, Olivia, you as much as said so."  
  
"Aughhh!" Her frustrated scream made Steve jump. "No, I did not!"  
  
"Olivia, you did!" Steve insisted. "You said I was a great guy. You told me I had been very helpful. You said I made it a good day in spite of everything. You said you were grateful, and you said you were not ready to go in the direction we were headed."  
  
She stared at him with a blank look in her green eyes. She opened her mouth to speak several times and closed it without a word. She looked like a beautiful fish, no, a mermaid, gulping air on the beach. Finally, she threw her hands in the air and flopped down on the couch beside him.  
  
"That's exactly what I said, isn't it?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And you were hurt, or offended, or embarrassed, or some combination of all of the above."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And that's why you've been avoiding me."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Well, Steve, I didn't mean it."  
  
In the silence, she thought about what she had just said. It had sounded bad. "Well, yes I did mean it. But I always say exactly what I mean. I meant every word I said. I just shouldn't have said them all together."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She turned to face him and waited patiently for him to face her. Finally, he did look at her, and she continued. "You are a great guy."  
  
She reached out and caressed his cheek. Steve felt fire consume him.  
  
She continued speaking, unaware of the effect she had on him, "And you were helpful, and it was a good day, and I was, I *am* grateful; but that's not why I didn't want to sleep with you."  
  
Steve dropped his head and blushed a bit. It drove him crazy that she could make him turn red with just a word.  
  
"Steve," she said softly. "We both know that's what was going to happen if one of us didn't stop it, right?"  
  
Steve nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. She was right. He had been hurt and embarrassed and angry. Now he was beginning to be afraid that he had lost something very special.  
  
Olivia waited a long time, but he just couldn't look her in the eye this time. Finally, she reached under his chin and very gently, but very insistently forced his head up. Her face was so beautiful, so sympathetic. She smiled sweetly and told him, "Part of me really did...want to, you know? I just thought we should get to know each other first."  
  
As he watched, tears welled up in her eyes. She said tenderly, "I really felt like we had just stumbled on to something extraordinary between us. Then you disappeared. Can we try again?"  
  
Steve's voice was so choked with emotion that it came out a whisper, "I, uh, I really think we ought to, don't you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
He took the hand that was under his chin. As he moved closer, he asked, "If I try to kiss you are you going to stop me again?"  
  
"N-no."  
  
He kissed her, tenderly at first. God almighty, it was so sweet. Then he pressed for more. She responded hungrily. Then something exploded between them. She leaned back, and he followed her. Her arms went around his neck; his fingers entangled themselves in her hair. They clung to each other as if a whirlwind were trying to pull them apart. Their breath came heavy with passion.  
  
Then Olivia started to giggle.  
  
Steve moaned his frustration. "What?"  
  
She continued to giggle with Steve, entirely unamused, half lying on top of her. Finally, she said, "Steve, this is your dad's office. He knows we're here, but can you imagine us trying to explain ourselves if he walked in."  
  
Steve quickly sat up and looked around blankly, as if just realizing for the first time where he was. "I don't think that would be funny," he said.  
  
Olivia shrugged and said, "So, I have a strange sense of humor."  
  
"Your office is right down the hall, isn't it?" Steve suggested.  
  
"Well, yeah, but I have work to do, and you really are on a case, right?"  
  
Steve threw his hands in the air and nearly yelled, "Woman, what are you doing to me?"  
  
Olivia smiled and said, "I don't know, but you sure are cute when you're frustrated. Look, come over for dinner around seven? I'm a great cook. After dinner, well, no promises, but...we'll see."  
  
Steve sighed. "Ok. Seven it is. By the way, how's the little girl?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The one you asked Jesse about."  
  
"Oh! Maria. It was a false alarm. She fell down the steps when someone bumped her in a fire drill at school. The ambulance brought her in then. The sprained wrist was on her birthday, when she got her roller blades. Her parents bought her wrist braces after that. She hurt her knee when she was skating and hit an uneven spot on the sidewalk and twisted her leg."  
  
"Sounds like the poor kid has some rotten luck," Steve observed.  
  
"Yeah, poor thing," Olivia agreed. "She's what a friend of mine used to call a crap magnet."  
  
Steve looked puzzled.  
  
"You know, if crap's gonna happen, it's gonna look for her to happen to."  
  
Steve shook his head and laughed, "I know what you mean," he said, "But you do have the strangest way of expressing things."  
  
"Ah, you'll get used to it. Everyone does. See you at seven?"  
  
"At seven." Steve stole a quick kiss and headed for the door.  
  
Olivia called out, "Be careful."  
  
Steve waved his acknowledgement. 


	6. Heck of a Way to Break a Date

(Chapter 6. August 20th. CGH. Evening.)  
  
Olivia looked at her watch and muttered in disgust because it wasn't there. She'd lost it moving in, and still hadn't located it. Searching the room for a clock, she found it was 6:45 and there was no way she would be able to meet Steve on time. She had been wrapping up some paperwork in her office and was about to leave when Dr. Macalvie had called her to the ER for a consult. Now she was going to be late.  
  
She went back to her office for her jacket and got Steve's cell number from her Rolodex. She dialed and was surprised to get his voice mail. "Hey, Steve, it's Olivia. I'm running late, but I will be there. I'm not standing you up. Hope Chinese is ok. See you soon. Ciao."  
  
She took up her crutches, paused a moment, and then set them aside. Her ankle had been feeling better and she thought she'd test it out now. She slowly eased her weight onto it, took a tentative step, then another. It was tender, but she could do without the crutches. Good. She stood them up in the corner, stuck her tongue out at the despised things, and locked the office behind her.  
  
__Dr. Regis, you have a call on line two, Dr. Olivia Regis, answer line two please__.  
  
She went back into her office and took the call.  
  
"Olivia? Jesse. We have a head on collision on the way, and Evans and Macalvie are already busy. I know you were off two hours ago, but..."  
  
"It was three, Jess, don't worry, I'll be there in a minute."  
  
"Thanks, Liv."  
  
She sighed, took off her jacket, and headed for the ER.  
  
  
  
  
  
The nurse at the desk said it was 7:30. Olivia called Steve's cell number again. "Hey handsome! I've been held up at the hospital. Where're you? I really am on my way now. Hope you haven't decided to ditch me. Sorry. Tell you what happened when I get there."  
  
The collision had been remarkably minor. Some bumps and bruises, a collarbone fractured by the seatbelt and a concussion. The occupants of both cars had been lucky. Evans and Macalvie were still busy with two much more serious trauma cases, a stabbing and a pedestrian victim of a hit-and- run, but Jesse had agreed to hang around until things eased up.  
  
"You live on adrenaline and caffeine, don't you?"  
  
Jesse grinned and faked a monstrous nervous twitch that distorted his youthful face and sent his whole body into spasms. "Yeah. I love it."  
  
Olivia laughed. "Well, have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Sure thing, and Liv?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Prop that ankle up when you get home. I think you should still be on crutches."  
  
"I hear ya, Jess. See ya."  
  
"See ya. Wouldn't wanna be ya."  
  
Just as she got through the ER doors, an ambulance roared up. She pulled the back doors open and knew she wasn't going anywhere soon.  
  
"What have you got?"  
  
"A cop shot six times with a large caliber weapon," the attendant said. "His partner and the shooter are on the way in another ambulance. One of the slugs went clean through him and grazed her. She says he got the shooter then fell half way down the stairs, rolled under the railing and fell to the floor. I guess he must be one tough son-of-a-bitch."  
  
"Language, please," Olivia admonished.  
  
The attendant shrugged and continued. "The way his partner puts it, he didn't go down until the shooting stopped." The legs of the gurney banged to the concrete, and the attendants raised it up and locked them in place. "Vitals are good, but he's been unconscious since before we arrived at the scene." As he started pushing the gurney through the doors, the attendant stepped aside to let Olivia see to the patient.  
  
Olivia saw a clean-cut, square-jawed face topped with a head full of dark hair. "My, God. Steve!"  
  
At that moment, Jesse came crashing through the doors. "What's up?"  
  
"I've got this one, Jess. There are two more on the way."  
  
Jesse turned to follow her as he recognized the patient. "Olivia, he's my best friend."  
  
"I know, Jess. That's why you need to take another patient." To the ambulance attendant she said, "Trauma One is open." She left Jesse standing at the doors as another ambulance carrying Steve's shooter and his partner rolled up. He was torn between following her and seeing to the other patients, but his friend was in good hands, and she was right, he needed to take care of someone else.  
  
"On my count, easy. One. Two. Three." They lifted Steve's inert form from the ambulance stretcher to the ER gurney. "Jehoshaphat! What did they use, a cannon?"  
  
The ambulance attendant shrugged.  
  
Steve's clothes had been cut away, and Olivia saw six bloody bandages. There was one on his right shin, just below the knee; another on his left thigh, near the hip, and four more across his pelvis.  
  
"Exit wounds?"  
  
"Two," the attendant told her. "One's on the right side of the pelvis. We guess that one that grazed his partner's hip. The other one's in his lower leg."  
  
"Any blood spurting?"  
  
"Didn't see any," was the reply. "No indication of serious arterial bleeding. The femoral artery seems to be intact, and the bullets appear to have missed all the vital organs. Man, if you're gonna get shot up, this is the right way to do it. He's the luckiest unlucky bastard I've ever seen."  
  
"Mind your language!" she snapped at the attendant. Monitors were beeping, IV's were dripping, and there was a good deal of blood; but the bleeding was under control now, Steve was breathing, and he had a steady pulse. "I need a CAT scan, a full set of x-rays..." Olivia started rattling off her list of orders as she flashed her penlight in Steve's left eye and then his right.  
  
"How is he? What happened? Steve? Son? Talk to me."  
  
Olivia looked at the nurse and murmured, "Take him out to the waiting area. I'll be there as soon as I can. Calm him down, get him a cup of coffee, whatever, but get him out of here." Then she spoke aloud, "Mark, he can't answer you, he's unconscious. His vitals are good and his pupils, equal and responsive. I need you to wait outside. I'll take good care of him."  
  
"Please let me see him," the older man pleaded, but Olivia was insistent.  
  
"Soon, Mark, but right now I'm busy taking care of him. You'll be in the way."  
  
Mark reluctantly allowed himself to be escorted back to the ER lobby.  
  
As she waited for the techs to arrive to run the requested tests, Olivia smoothed her patient's hair and called, "Steve? Steve! You need to wake up for me, baby. I need to talk to you. Come on, Steve, I know you're in there. Your vitals are too strong for you not to be."  
  
The blue eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut in pain. "Oh, God," he moaned. "It hurts. Oh, my God, it hurts."  
  
Olivia continued to stroke his hair back and to talk to him calmly and slowly. "I know it hurts, baby, but you've got to tell me how bad and where."  
  
Tears of pain forced their way from the corners of his eyes. "My right shoulder."  
  
"Your right shoulder? Steve, you weren't even shot there."  
  
"I was shot? Ah, hell."  
  
Olivia winced at the curse, but couldn't help smiling at the response. "Yeah. Heck of a way to break our dinner date, huh?"  
  
He laughed then moaned. "I used to love your sense of humor."  
  
The techs showed up with their equipment. Olivia checked the monitors one more time, and told the nurse, "Stay with him. I'll be right outside. If there's any change, come get me, STAT." Then she smoothed Steve's hair one more time and told him, "You're hurt pretty bad, Steve, but you're stable now. We're going to get some x-rays and run a few tests."  
  
"I want my dad," he moaned  
  
"I know, sweetie. I'm going to go talk to him now. Once I've briefed him, I'll bring him back here. Ok?"  
  
"All right." He put on a brave face as she turned to go, but then called out in a frightened voice, "Olivia? Don't be gone long?"  
  
"I won't, Steve."  
  
  
  
  
  
The clock in the ER waiting room read eight p.m. Olivia had been in the hospital twelve hours already, and it looked like it was going to be a long night. As soon as Mark saw her coming out of Trauma One, he bounced up and hustled over to her. Amanda and Steve's partner, Cheryl, were with him now, and Jesse was just coming from Trauma Three. His patient was cuffed to a wheel chair and was being escorted off to another part of the hospital. Questions flew at Olivia.  
  
"How is he? What happened? Will he be all right? Is he stable? Has he regained consciousness? Does he know what happened?"  
  
Olivia answered, "In reverse order, sort of, yes, yes, in time he should be, he was shot then fell, and it's not as bad as it looks, but he ain't great, either."  
  
"Thank, God."  
  
"Well, that's something."  
  
"When can I see him?"  
  
"Soon, Mark," Olivia promised. "I'm glad you're all here, this way I only have to brief you once."  
  
It always seemed easier on the family and friends if she told all of them everything at once. Maybe it was just easier on her. She took a deep breath and started. "He was shot six times with a large caliber weapon, then fell down half a flight of stairs before he slipped between the rails and dropped to the floor." She looked at Cheryl for confirmation.  
  
The other woman nodded. "It was amazing. He knew he was hurt bad, but he stayed on his feet until he was sure he'd got the shooter." Turning to Mark, she said, "Dr. Sloan, I'm sorry. I was supposed to be his back-up, but I guess I didn't do a very good job."  
  
Mark patted her on the shoulder, "It's all right, honey. It's not your fault. I know you did everything you could."  
  
Olivia continued. "He still has four slugs inside him. God must have had his hand on him, though, because they appear to have missed all the vital organs and all the major blood vessels. He's stable, he's conscious, he's lucid, the bleeding is under control, and right now, we're just waiting for the CAT scan and the x-rays. I think he may have a concussion, a broken shoulder or collarbone, and several other broken bones. His heartbeat and respiration are good, and he's asking for you, Mark."  
  
"When can I see him?"  
  
"I'll take you back now, Mark, but I don't want you to stay too long. I'm going to have to take him to surgery soon. Cheryl, Jesse and Amanda, would you mind waiting here?"  
  
Steve's friends nodded, and sat back down in the waiting room chairs.  
  
  
  
  
  
In the trauma room, Mark walked over to his son and rested a hand on his chest. He leaned in close and said softly, "Steve, son? Can you hear me?"  
  
"Dad?" Though Steve's voice was shaky, it was not as weak as Mark expected, but he didn't open his eyes.  
  
"Look at me, son."  
  
Steve opened his eyes long enough for Mark to see the pain and fear there then shut them again tightly. "The light hurts."  
  
Mark nodded. "You probably have a concussion."  
  
Steve moaned. "I thought so. Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. It hurts so much."  
  
"Don't be sorry, son. I know it hurts, but you'll be ok. I'm very proud of you. You're being very strong. Cheryl told me how you stopped the shooter." Mark continued to murmur words of encouragement to his son as Olivia got the results of the CAT scan and the x-rays and examined them carefully.  
  
"Mark?" She called softly and beckoned him over.  
  
"I'm just two steps away son. Speak up if you need me."  
  
"Ok, Dad."  
  
"What have we got?" Mark asked.  
  
Olivia put the images up one by one, explaining each as she did so.  
  
"The CAT scan shows us no surprises. He's got a concussion and the Devil's own headache, but that's all." She looked at Mark and he concurred with a nod of his head.  
  
Olivia put up the first x-ray. "I was right about the broken clavicle, but it's a clean break. No major problems here."  
  
Mark nodded again, and again when she put up the next image and said simply, "Some cracked ribs."  
  
She put up another picture, the x-ray of Steve's lower right leg. Just below the knee, the two bones looked like they'd had bites taken out of them. Olivia said, "When the bullet went through it took chunks of his fibula and tibia with it. It's like a puzzle without all the pieces. His right leg is going to be shorter than the left at first, but we can fix that with a fixator."  
  
"You mean to stretch it as the bone heals?"  
  
"Exactly. It will be uncomfortable for Steve, but in the long run, it will pay off, I think."  
  
Mark rubbed his hands over his face and then held his chin between the palms of his hands as Olivia continued.  
  
She used her knuckle to draw a circle around the image of Steve's left femur. "We're a little better off here. We still have all of it, but it's going to be a trick to hold everything together. If the bullet had passed through, it would have been a different story. If it had hit the femoral artery he could have lost the leg."  
  
Mark nodded, "Or worse." Then he asked, "Olivia, what are you holding back?"  
  
She put up the final x-ray and said, "Mark, this is a mess. His pelvis is shattered in a spider-web pattern like a windshield that's been hit by stones. Most of the pieces are small. It's about as bad as I have ever seen. He's also got a perforated colon. That we can fix, no problem, but things are going to be complicated with the shattered pelvis."  
  
The older doctor dropped his head and covered his face. He knew this injury meant his son might never walk again. Olivia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red rimmed, but he was in control of himself. "What can you do for him?"  
  
"I just received approval for my new study. Steve is a perfect candidate."  
  
Mark shook his head. "No. I will not have my son used as a lab rat."  
  
Olivia took him by both shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Mark, this kind of thing is exactly what you hired me to do. If you believe in me enough to hire me, then you have to believe I can help your son."  
  
He shook his head again. "No, Olivia, I can't allow it."  
  
She didn't let go of his shoulders, but asked, "Do you have religious convictions, Mark?"  
  
He nodded, "But I don't generally advertise them."  
  
"Usually, neither do I," she admitted, "But Mark, this is why I'm here tonight. I was late meeting Steve for dinner. I was on my way out that door when they brought him in. I am here because God knows I am the only one who can do this. He knows I am the best because he made me what I am, and I can fix it. I absolutely can fix it, Mark. I believe that, but I need you to believe in me. More importantly, Steve needs you to believe in me."  
  
He studied her face, and, for the first time since that terrible moment when he saw her holding a gun on his son, he saw it. He saw the confidence that she'd had the day he hired her. Now he thought he understood where it came from. He was amazed that someone who so firmly believed that God himself had chosen her could have any humility at all. He could see that her faith was unshakable, and he knew she was his son's best chance at a full recovery. "I-I'll talk to him. I'll explain the treatment. I'll get his consent."  
  
Olivia nodded once. "I'm going to scrub. You're doing the right thing, Mark. I promise." She paused by her patient and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Your dad's going to explain some things to you. I'll see you in a few minutes."  
  
Steve never opened his eyes, but he did say, "Ok."  
  
Olivia stopped at the ER desk and said, "I need an OR for Steve Sloan. Which one is open?"  
  
"Three is ready, Doctor."  
  
"Who's available to assist?"  
  
"Dr. Evans just scrubbed out."  
  
"Ask him to scrub in again, please."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"And nurse?"  
  
"Ma'am?"  
  
"I haven't eaten since noon. It's going to be a long night. Could you please have someone in the cafeteria bring a roast beef sandwich and a chocolate milk to the lounge next to the surgeons' locker room?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Right away."  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia changed as fast as she could, and she wolfed her sandwich and gulped her milk on the way to the scrub room. Still when she arrived in the OR, the team was assembled, the patient was draped and unconscious, and Jesse Travis was in the way. She walked up to the operating table, and commanded quietly, "Dr. Travis, scrub out."  
  
"No, way, Olivia. He's my best friend. I'm going to be here for him."  
  
"Dr. Travis, I am not working with an audience tonight, and you are *not* assisting. Scrub out now."  
  
"I'm staying, Liv."  
  
"You have five seconds before I call security."  
  
"I'm not going."  
  
"Four."  
  
"Liv, don't do this."  
  
"Three."  
  
Jesse stood his ground.  
  
"Two...One. Nurse..."  
  
"DAMMIT, LIV!" Jesse shouted his frustration. He slammed out the OR doors. The surgical team watched through the window of the scrub room as he tore off his mask, gloves, and cap, slammed his hand against the lockers, and stormed out through the scrub room door.  
  
"He's pissed," Dr. Evans observed.  
  
"Such language! I'll settle with him later. Right now, I don't care. Ladies and gentlemen, let's begin." 


	7. A Dangerous Promise

(Chapter 7. August 21st. CGH recovery room. 4am.)  
  
Steve Sloan drifted in a dark haze. He couldn't see anything, but he heard beeps and clicks and voices murmuring. His throat felt strange, and every few seconds a screaming pain lanced through his ribs. He tried to moan, tried to cry out, but he couldn't. He wanted to lose consciousness again, but he couldn't do that either.  
  
Something was intruding into his mouth and throat. He tried to push it away, but his left arm wouldn't reach his face. He tried again with his right, and the same thing happened. Something soft and warm caught his right hand. "You're on a ventilator, Steve," said a sweet, comforting voice. "I know it feels nasty, but you have to leave it there for a little while. I don't know exactly why, but you didn't tolerate the anesthesia very well. We've had some trouble getting you to breathe on your own."  
  
He squeezed the hand that held his, and it squeezed back.  
  
"Open your eyes, Steve."  
  
He shook his head ever so slightly.  
  
"Come on, sweetheart," the voice crooned. "The only way you're going to get off the ventilator is to come fully conscious and start breathing on your own. You've been asleep a long time and you need to come back to us."  
  
His eyes fluttered open, and he saw a freckle-faced redhead looking down at him. There was concern in her eyes, but no worry. He figured he would be all right.  
  
"Squeeze once for yes and twice for no, ok?"  
  
He squeezed her hand once.  
  
"Do you know where you are?"  
  
He cast a glance around the dimly lit room. He'd been in post-op recovery before. One squeeze.  
  
"Do you know who I am?"  
  
He hadn't known her long, but he'd never forget her now. One squeeze.  
  
"Good! Then you remember my name is Sharon."  
  
His eyes widened and he squeezed twice.  
  
She chuckled and said, "That's right, I'm Olivia, aren't I?"  
  
One firm squeeze. That was a rotten trick.  
  
"Good. I had to check. Steve, do you remember what happened?"  
  
He furrowed his brow and thought hard. She waited patiently. The only sounds in the room were the beep of the heart monitor and the whoosh and click of the ventilator. Nothing was coming back. Two hard squeezes.  
  
"Ow! I guess that was a shout. Don't worry about it. It's common for the mind to block out trauma. It's a defense mechanism. Do you want me to tell you what happened?'  
  
He thought a moment, squeezed once, tentatively, then twice.  
  
"Yes and no? You're not sure. Why don't I give you the big picture, then we can fill in the details when you're stronger."  
  
One squeeze.  
  
"Ok. But before I start, I'm going to turn off the ventilator."  
  
He squeezed her hand hard twice and held on.  
  
She winced in pain but didn't try to pull away, "Steve, don't panic. I'm betting you can breathe on your own now, but there is only one way to find out."  
  
He clung to her hand.  
  
"You've been so brave through everything, Steve. You need to try this now. If you can't manage it yet, I can just turn the ventilator back on. It's no big deal." She waited for his answer. The only sounds were the whoosh, the click, and the beep. She rumpled his hair and looked into his eyes. "I know you're scared, but it will be ok. I promise."  
  
She promised. He'd heard her say the same thing to his dad, and his dad had believed her. She seemed sincere. He could trust her, too. He squeezed once and then let go of her hand.  
  
"Ok, Steve. The first breath might be a struggle, but once you get started it'll feel like you've been doing it all your life."  
  
Oh, God. That sense of humor would be the death of him. Jesse was right. She was crazy after all. Steve realized that he didn't mind a bit.  
  
The whoosh-click stopped. For a moment, Steve felt his heart pounding. "Come on, babe," Olivia encouraged him, "Take a deep, deep breath."  
  
Something in his chest finally let go. His lungs filled, his ribs hurt like hell, and he was breathing on his own.  
  
"Good job, Steve! That's what you needed to do!" She was quite a cheerleader. "Now, I am going to leave the tube in a little while longer, just in case we need to turn the ventilator back on, but I think I'll be removing it soon." She took his hand and said, "Now, let me tell you how you got here."  
  
Briefly, she filled him in. He'd been shot. His partner was ok and his shooter was in the security wing. It was 4:00 am. He'd spent seven hours in surgery. His dad and friends were waiting outside until he was off the ventilator and could talk to them. "I just think your dad would be too upset to see you on a machine."  
  
He squeezed once in agreement.  
  
"Do you want to know more?"  
  
Steve thought about it, and his curiosity got the best of him. He squeezed once. Gently, a little at a time, she gave him all the details. Six bullets, concussion, broken bones. Miraculously, there was no damage to his vital organs. Again, miraculously, she had been delayed long enough to be there when they brought him in. She explained how his dad got him to consent to being part of her new study and that he had a decent shot at a complete recovery.  
  
Dr. Evans had performed a colostomy because his pelvis was so badly shattered it wouldn't withstand the pressure of a bowel movement. Once the bones healed, that would be reversed. He had something called a fixator on his right leg. So much bone had been blown away that it was shorter than his left leg. Olivia was going to stretch it as it healed, forcing more bone to grow so that his legs would be the same length again when it was healed completely. As part of the study, he was going to receive a special diet and low doses of growth hormones to stimulate bone growth. He couldn't move because, except for a small opening for the colostomy, he was in a full body cast. The results of a blood test came back and Olivia read them and smiled.  
  
"Well, you're getting enough oxygen into you blood. Let's get that tube out."  
  
One strong squeeze.  
  
"I'm right here, Steve, you don't need to shout."  
  
He just rolled his eyes. Very funny.  
  
"Ok. When I tell you, take as deep a breath as you can. On three, let it out like you're blowing out a birthday cake. It will feel really bad, but then it will be over. Now breathe in."  
  
He did as he was told, and his ribs hurt something awful. When he blew out, she pulled the tube free, and he gagged and coughed. Then, just like she said, it was over. His throat felt raw and his ribs hurt, but it was over.  
  
"Thirsty," he croaked.  
  
She picked up a cup of ice chips and dropped some into his mouth with a spoon. "Don't chew. Let them melt."  
  
"How long until I'm up and around?"  
  
Olivia shook her head. She always hated this question. "I'm not even going to discuss that today, Steve. It will be a while. It will take a lot of work. There are a lot of variables, but you will recover. When you're feeling a little stronger, we'll discuss a timeline for your recovery, but right now you need to rest."  
  
"Promise me."  
  
"Promise you what?"  
  
Suddenly tears filled his eyes. He hadn't realized he was this scared. "If you promise me I'll get better, I'll believe you."  
  
Olivia searched her heart. If she made that promise and was wrong, what would that do to him? Still, somehow she knew God had brought her here for this. Taking a deep breath, she made a leap of faith, "If you do what you're told and let God take care of the details, everything will be ok. I promise."  
  
Steve smiled and blinked back his tears. "Can I see my dad?"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, thank God." Mark hung up the phone. Jesse and Amanda were at his side in a flash. They'd convinced him to take a nap in his office after Steve went into the recovery room, but that had been hours ago and they were very worried that something had gone wrong.  
  
They gave him a moment to compose himself, then, "Well? How is he? Is he all right? What did she say?"  
  
Mark laughed out loud. "He's 'good.' That was her exact word. He's good. He's in his own room and he wants to see me."  
  
"Well, what took so long?" Amanda asked as she and Jesse followed Mark out of the office.  
  
"She's not sure. He just had a hard time coming out of the anesthesia, but he's ok now."  
  
Olivia met them at the door to Steve's room. "Hold it right there, you two," she said to Jesse and Amanda. "Just Mark, for now."  
  
"Come, on, Liv," Jesse whined.  
  
Amanda said nothing, but she was on the verge of tears.  
  
Mark said, "It's been over ten hours Olivia. They haven't seen him since he was brought in."  
  
"Ok," she relented. "Two minutes, guys. Mark, I'll give you ten."  
  
"Fair enough," Mark agreed.  
  
As Mark and Amanda slipped past her, Olivia caught Jesse by the arm. "Jess. About what happened in the OR..."  
  
Jesse put up his hand. "You don't need to say another word, Liv. By the time the scrub room door closed behind me, I knew if I needed that desperately to be there, I was too desperate to do any good. You were right to send me out."  
  
"So, we're ok?"  
  
"Yeah." He gave her that boyish grin, and asked, "Can I see him now?"  
  
Olivia let go of his arm and nodded him inside.  
  
When Mark, Jesse, and Amanda approached the bed, Steve appeared to be sleeping. Mark checked the IV and the leads to the heart monitor and the colostomy dressing. Then he smoothed his son's hair gently off his face. Steve opened his eyes and focused on his dad and friends. "Hey, guys."  
  
Jesse rested a hand on his plaster-covered shoulder and Amanda took his hand.  
  
"Hey, Steve," Amanda said, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I've had my better days."  
  
Jesse laughed, "I'll bet you have."  
  
Steve looked at his dad, "You ok, Dad?"  
  
Mark's voice was choked with emotion when he answered. "Yeah, son, I'm fine now. I was just worried about you is all."  
  
"Well, you can stop worrying. I'm going to be ok. Olivia promised."  
  
Steve didn't see the look that passed between Jesse and Amanda, and Mark was able to hide his reaction. "Did she, now?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Amanda nudged Jesse and they both headed out of the room, leaving Mark to sit with his son for a few minutes more.  
  
"You know, Steve," Mark began carefully, "It might take a lot longer than you expect to get better. It's going to be a lot of work, and this treatment is only experimental."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Dad. I know it will take a long time, but she promised me. I'm going to recover." Steve yawned then. "Look, Dad, I'm real tired. Mind if I get some more sleep?"  
  
Mark patted his hand gently and said, "Of course not, son. Get some rest." He sat at Steve's bedside while he drifted off to sleep. In spite of everything, his son still had a childlike look of innocence in his sleep. He had no idea what an enormous lie he'd been told.  
  
Mark's blood began to boil. He got up and strode out of the room. Seeing Jesse first he barked, "Where is she?"  
  
"Mark, maybe you should calm down before you talk to her."  
  
"Nonsense. Where is she, Jesse?"  
  
"In her office with Amanda."  
  
Mark was on a mission, with Jesse scrambling to keep up in his wake. He burst into the office and shouted, "What are you doing, making promises like that to my son? You can't promise he'll recover! You don't know!"  
  
"Mark..." Amanda said soothingly.  
  
He took her gently by the shoulders and moved her aside. "Stay out of this Amanda." He rested his hands heavily on Olivia's desk and loomed over her. "How could you possibly promise him he'd recover? He's convinced that it's all going to be ok and he's magically going to be all right. How could you do that?"  
  
Olivia drew a steadying breath, stood up to look her boss in the eye, and said, "I promised him because it's true. There is no other alternative."  
  
"No other...!" Mark laughed in shock. "My God, there could be neurological damage you're not yet aware of. He could get an infection. Any number of things could go wrong."  
  
"They won't," she said levelly. "I won't allow them to. I can't explain how I know, but I do." She tapped her chest and tried to explain. "I know it in here. I can feel it, as sure and as strong as my own heartbeat. He's going to be ok."  
  
"Dr. Regis," Mark said dangerously, "If he doesn't recover, your career will be over."  
  
"Dr. Sloan," she replied with conviction, "If he doesn't, it should be."  
  
  
  
  
  
A few days later, Mark sat at his desk, staring at nothing, worrying about his son. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even see his two young colleagues poke their heads around the corner.  
  
"Mark," Amanda said sweetly.  
  
"Oh. Hi, 'Manda. Jess. What's up?" He waved them in and gestured them into some seats.  
  
Jesse spoke nervously. "We just wondered how you're doing. We haven't seen you around today."  
  
"Oh. I guess I was just avoiding people," Mark said with a rueful grin.  
  
"You're still worried about Steve," Amanda said. "Have you seen him today? How's he doing?"  
  
"Just saw him about an hour ago. He's in a lot of pain, but his spirits are good. That," Mark choked up, calmed himself, and continued. "That...woman...has him completely convinced that everything's going to be just peachy. He won't even consider the possibility that he might not walk again."  
  
Jesse and Amanda traded looks, and Jesse motioned Amanda to say something.  
  
"Mark, have you considered the possibility that he might?"  
  
"My God, Amanda, how dare you ask that? I pray every moment for a complete recovery for my son."  
  
"That's kind of my point, Mark. If you're praying so hard, do you really believe it's possible?"  
  
Mark's gaze could have turned her to stone. He stood up and pointed to the door. "Get out, both of you."  
  
Jesse got up, but only to shut the door. Then he turned and faced the man who had become a second father, a better father, to him. "Mark, we're not leaving until you hear us out. You might not want to hear this, but you need to."  
  
Amanda continued. "We think Olivia is right, Mark. And we think she did the right thing for Steve."  
  
"I don't believe I'm hearing this from you two." He sat heavily in his chair. "Did you see Steve's x-rays? His body was broken into pieces. He might get his strength back, but there's only a slim chance he'll ever get back to normal. That promise she made him was unconscionable. His life as he knew it is over."  
  
"Mark," Jesse said, "Listen to yourself. You sound so hopeless. I know this doesn't make sense, but Amanda and I think Olivia knows something. She knows something no one else can, and she's right. Steve is going to be ok."  
  
Mark folded his hands on top of his desk. "I wish I could have the faith you two do. I just don't see it. And I don't think it's fair to Steve to let him think everything is going to be the way it was. This is going to dramatically change his life, and I think someone needs to tell him that."  
  
Amanda got up and came around the desk. She put a comforting arm around her friend's shoulders and asked him gently, "Then why haven't you told him? Why do you let him go on believing a promise you think is false?"  
  
Mark shook his head and admitted, "I just don't have the heart to say anything. It will break him."  
  
"Maybe you just need to consider the other possibility," Amanda suggested.  
  
"What other possibility?"  
  
"That Olivia's right," Jesse supplied. "Consider her reputation, Mark. Maybe she does know something we don't."  
  
"I have considered her reputation, Jesse," Mark replied heatedly. "And I think it has gone entirely to her head. That humility is just an act. Her confidence is arrogance in disguise. Years of praise and recognition have convinced her that she can work miracles. She's using my son to prove it, and she's going to destroy him. And I can't prevent it. He's utterly convinced that she's right."  
  
"Maybe she is, Mark," Jesse pleaded. "If her reputation doesn't convince you, consider all the coincidences."  
  
"What do you mean, Jess?"  
  
"I know you told me she believes God brought her here to take care of Steve. Well, I'm not ready to say it was divine intervention or anything, but a lot of events did conspire to have her here when he was brought in. There's a lot she didn't tell you, you know?"  
  
"Like what?" Mark's interest was piqued.  
  
"Well, Evans and Macalvie, for instance. She was waiting to talk to them about a patient they had both treated. She could have been gone at four, but she needed to see them. In fact, it was just coincidence that Macalvie was on duty anyway. He was covering for Johnson. He wasn't even supposed to be here."  
  
"Ok, Jess, but like you said, its just coincidence."  
  
"But there's so much more, Mark. She and Steve had patched things up in your office and she invited him to her place for dinner. The talk they had delayed her going home. If she hadn't decided to speak to him, or if she had left her paperwork on her desk until morning, she'd have been gone when I paged her." Jesse was getting excited. He paused for a breath and Amanda continued.  
  
"As she was leaving, Macalvie called her for a consult, the next time she tried to leave, Jesse asked her to stick around and help with a head-on collision. Would you believe there were only minor injuries? It was a head-on collision, Mark! Macalvie and Evans were both busy when she left. And she was right at the door when they brought Steve in."  
  
Jesse finished up, "And she got the approval for her research just hours before. Mark, it just seems like it was meant to be. Olivia believes it. Steve believes in her. So do Amanda and I."  
  
Mark looked from Jesse to Amanda and saw her nod. "I just don't know, guys. Like you say, it's all coincidence."  
  
Amanda asked him, "If you know, what's the point of believing?"  
  
"A pile of coincidences might add up to a…I don't know…a plan?" Jesse suggested.  
  
"You do realize you're both talking about a miracle, here, don't you?"  
  
Jesse and Amanda were both scientists. They were uneasy with the 'm-word' but when Mark put it to them plainly, they had to agree.  
  
"I'm not sure I'm willing to take that leap when it concerns my son's physical and emotional well-being," Mark insisted.  
  
"Mark," Jesse said. "You know as well as I do, with injuries like Steve's, believing you'll get well is at least as important as any medical treatment you can receive. If he thinks you don't expect him to recover, he won't. Let him take Olivia at her word. If she's wrong, and I don't think she is, but if she is, he'll at least have had a chance."  
  
"But what will it do to him when he finds out she made a promise she can't keep?"  
  
"Nothing worse than if you take that hope away now, Mark. If she is wrong, it might be easier for him to gradually realize that for himself than to have someone tell him so."  
  
Amanda said, "Mark, he looks to you to know what to think. Don't let him down."  
  
Several emotions crossed Mark's face; the last one was resolve. "I'm not as convinced as you two are, but I'll do my best to help Steve stay positive." 


	8. Truce...and Trust

(Chapter 8. August 24. CGH. 11 am.)  
  
Olivia limped carefully down the halls of Community General. Seven hours on her feet in OR the other day had been a huge mistake for her sore ankle but she refused to go back on the crutches now. Steve had slept most of the next couple of days, and to avoid arguing with Mark, she had been limiting her visits to his room as much as was practical. Soon she would have to sit down and discuss physical therapy, pain management, and a rehabilitation facility with Steve and his dad, but for now, she just wanted to look in on her newest patient before heading to her office for her afternoon appointments.  
  
As she neared the door of Steve's room, she heard what she thought was a stifled sob. She peeked around the corner and what she saw made something twist in her heart. Steve, obviously in pain, was straining to reach the call button hanging from his bedrail. The body cast went up over his shoulders and covered his upper arms. He could only lift his head and bend his arms at the elbow. His face contorted with the effort and the muscles and tendons in his neck stood out as he struggled. No matter how hard he tried, he would never reach the call button. It was impossibly far away.  
  
Then he collapsed back against the pillows. He didn't notice her watching. "Oh, God," he sobbed quietly. Then he took a couple of calming breaths and tried again. Again, he failed. He moaned in pure agony, and steeled himself for another try.  
  
Before he could make another attempt, Olivia was at his side, holding his hand. "I've got to tell you," she said in a comforting tone, "you sure have spirit. That will make a big difference in your recovery. Now, what do you need?"  
  
Everything came out in a jumble. "My nose itches, and I'm thirsty, and I'm hungry, and I'm so bored, and it's been hours since I've seen anybody." He sniffed deeply and blinked back tears. "I need a handkerchief, and I'm just so damned lonely, and I have to pee."  
  
"Well," Olivia said, forgiving the profanity, "First things first." She gently scratched his nose for him. Then she discretely lifted the blankets and held a urinal in place for him. When he had finished, she asked, "Better?"  
  
Steve took a deep, shaky breath and said, "Much."  
  
She checked the quantity of urine in the container and marked it on the chart before dumping it into the toilet in the adjoining bathroom.  
  
"Lunch will be here in about an hour," she said kindly as she washed her hands. She poured him a glass of water and held the straw to his lips. "Can you wait that long?"  
  
Steve took a sip and nodded. "I guess," he sounded a little more composed.  
  
She held a tissue for him and said, "Blow."  
  
He did.  
  
"Now, take a couple deep breaths and try to calm down." She waited patiently as he did so; then she asked, "Feel better?"  
  
Steve nodded, but his blue eyes filled with tears again and he said weakly, "No." He shook his head and wept. "I'm sorry."  
  
Olivia went over to the door, shut, and locked it. Then she sat on the bed beside him and held his hand. She gently stroked the back of his arm as she said, "Don't be sorry. It's ok. Don't worry. You don't have to feel better right now. If you want to be miserable for a little longer, that's all right. You've been through a lot, and you've got the right. Just give it some time."  
  
Steve struggled to regain control of himself, but every time he got close, his eyes filled with tears, his breath caught in his chest, and he started to weep again. Olivia continued to soothe him, rubbing the back of his hand, stroking his hair, catching his tears with a tissue before they ran down into his ears, and talking to him constantly.  
  
"It's all right, Steve," she crooned. "I know you're feeling a little rough right now. It'll get better. Just be patient."  
  
"I'm scared, Liv," he confided, "and it hurts, and I feel so damned helpless." He started to sob in earnest now.  
  
"That's it, just let go," she encouraged him.  
  
"Why did this happen to me?" he wailed.  
  
"It's ok, Steve. I know it's hard," she murmured. "I don't know why this happened, Steve. Sometimes we never see God's plan in the things that happen to us. But you'll get through it and be stronger for it. You'll be feeling better soon, but for now, for right now, you don't have to be brave or strong or tough. It's ok to be scared and lonely, even angry. You don't have to put up a front and act like everything's ok. For now, it's just you and me, and I won't tell anyone. Just let it all go."  
  
Steve wept bitterly for several more minutes as Olivia softly whispered words of encouragement to him. Finally, the storm passed. He took one, last, deep shaky breath, closed his eyes, swallowed and said, "I'm ok, now."  
  
Olivia laid a hand on his cheek and asked, "You're sure?"  
  
He opened his eyes, nodded, and said, "Yeah, I'm sure."  
  
"Good," she said brightly. Then she patted his hand and said, "Let's get you cleaned up." She held a tissue for him to blow his nose again, washed his face for him and combed his hair, smoothed some lotion onto his hands and arms. "Hospitals are so dry," she said. "I always feel itchy if I don't use lotion. Would you like a shave?"  
  
"That would feel good," Steve agreed. "Do you have the time?"  
  
Olivia glanced at her wrist, then searched for the clock and said, "Um, yeah, just enough."  
  
"You know, you don't have to do this."  
  
"Maybe I want to," she smiled, "I'll be right back." It took her a few minutes to locate a razor, shaving foam and a basin. While she was out, she spoke to the nurses about checking on their patients more often. "I'm not going to get mean and nasty about it this time, but how do you think it feels? And how would you feel if it was your friend or your child?" When she came back, Mark was there.  
  
"Dr. Sloan," Olivia said, carefully.  
  
"Dr. Regis." Mark's response was equally guarded.  
  
"I was hoping to have Steve looking his best by the time you dropped in, but now that you're here...Steve, do you want your dad to do this?"  
  
"Uh, I don't know, Liv," Steve answered, confused by the new tension in the room, "I guess if you're busy and he wouldn't mind it would be ok. Dad?"  
  
"Yeah, Steve, I'll be glad to take care of it."  
  
Olivia placed the shaving supplies on the bedside table, patted the back of Steve's hand, and told him, "I have some ideas that might make you a little more comfortable. I'll be back around dinnertime to see what I can do, ok?"  
  
"Ok, Liv. See you then."  
  
Steve and Mark watched as Olivia walked out. When he was sure she was gone, Steve asked, "Ok, Dad, what's up?"  
  
"What do you mean, Steve?"  
  
"Don't give me that act, Dad. The temperature in this room dropped ten degrees when she walked in and saw you here. What's going on between the two of you?"  
  
Mark started to lather his son's face. "Just a difference of professional opinion, son. Nothing for you to worry about."  
  
"If it's about me, it's something for me to worry about, Dad."  
  
"Will you just stop talking so I can get this done?"  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia saw her last patient at four. By five, she had finished her shopping and run by her house for a few things. Then she stopped by BBQ Bob's for a special treat for Steve. She knew the ribs would be messy, but she also hoped they would lift his spirits. As she walked into Steve's room at six, Mark was just starting to feed him the hospital dinner.  
  
"Put that slop aside!" she said, "I bring the food of the gods!"  
  
Without a word, Mark took the tray and carried it out.  
  
Steve inhaled the aroma deeply, "Ahhhh, come to papa."  
  
"In a minute. First, I told you I had some things in mind to make you more comfortable," Olivia told him.  
  
Steve looked around to see his father had disappeared. "You know, you and my dad haven't said more than two words to each other in the past few days. What's up?"  
  
"We've just had a disagreement, Steve. No big deal."  
  
"If it's no big deal, why aren't you two talking, and why won't either of you tell me about it?"  
  
"Maybe because it's our business and not yours."  
  
Just then Mark came in and silently took a chair. Steve looked from his dad to Olivia, but didn't say another word.  
  
Mark watched as Olivia placed a small shopping bag on the bedside table and began taking an odd assortment of items out of it. First, there was a loop of nylon webbing with a clip at the end. Then she pulled out a roll of clear flexible tubing and a small square of Velcro tape. Finally, she brought out a deck of cards and a package of yellow rubbery adhesive of the sort that people sometimes used to hang posters and signs on the wall.  
  
"Come on, Liv. I want my ribs."  
  
"Oh, just enjoy the anticipation for a minute. Don't you know that's half the pleasure of a good meal? Give me your hand."  
  
Steve held up his hand, and she slipped the loop of webbing around his wrist. Then she opened the clip and slipped the cord of the call button through it. "Now when you need something, you can let the nurse know. No more struggling for that blasted button."  
  
Olivia cast a glance at Mark, but his gaze didn't reveal anything. She shrugged and turned her complete attention to her patient.  
  
She held up the deck of cards and said, "Maybe after dinner I'll let you win at poker."  
  
"You'll let me, huh?"  
  
"Well, yeah. That's the only way you will win, you know."  
  
Next, she took the TV remote, peeled the backing off one side of the Velcro tape, and stuck it to the remote. She peeled the backing off the other side of the tape and handed the remote to Steve. "I just love Velcro. When it's stuck, it's stuck for good, so make sure it's in a comfortable place before you stick it fast."  
  
"Uh, what am I sticking it to?"  
  
"Duh. Your cast. That way it's right there handy and it can't slip out of your reach."  
  
"Oh! Hey, that's pretty clever. What do you think, Dad?"  
  
Mark nodded, but said nothing.  
  
Mark watched with interest as Olivia put her last contraption together. First, she filled Steve's water pitcher and set it on the bedside table. Then she lowered the table as far as it would go. "If we create a siphon, you're going to have a mess." She fed the clear tubing into the pitcher, and measured a length from the pitcher to a point on Steve's chest. She cut it several inches longer; then used it to measure a second length of tubing. "Now we can have one to use and one to wash."  
  
She took some of the adhesive out of the package, rolled it into a ball, and stuck it to Steve's cast. She stuck the tubing to the adhesive and folded the adhesive over, leaving about an inch of tubing sticking out on one end and the long end going back to the water pitcher. Finally, she took a flexible straw from the bag of ribs, fit it into the tubing, and bent the other end toward Steve's mouth.  
  
"Try it," she commanded.  
  
Steve took a sip, and sighed, "Almost perfect."  
  
"Almost?"  
  
"Well, I'd prefer a beer to go with the ribs."  
  
Olivia laughed, "Not gonna happen, handsome."  
  
"Dad, you gotta admit, this is pure genius."  
  
This time Mark nodded and smiled. He hadn't seen his son in such high spirits since before the shooting.  
  
Steve held up his hands with the call button and the remote control, and he nodded toward the straw. "This means a lot, Liv," he said with deep sincerity. "I really, really appreciate it."  
  
She knocked on the plaster covering his chest. "Don't give it another thought. I was glad to do it. Now, what about those ribs?"  
  
"Sounds good to me. Dad, you want some?"  
  
"No, son, I'm fine, thanks."  
  
Olivia had planned ahead for this meal. She wanted to make it special. She moved the hospital water pitcher, took the straw away, and put a checkered tablecloth on the little bedside table along with a candle in a jar and a carnation in a bud vase. She set out real china and poured Steve's iced tea from the paper cup into a real glass. She put the ribs on the plate along with coleslaw and baked beans.  
  
"Now," Olivia told him, "You better enjoy this, and make it last, because beginning tomorrow, you're on that special diet I told you about to help those bones heal faster. You'll be eating some dairy foods and lots of beans and green veggies that are high in absorbable calcium, and magnesium, but not too much phosphorus. Coffee, tea, and soda will be out and your protein intake will be carefully monitored because they all cause the body to excrete calcium."  
  
"I know, I know. You explained it all to me before. Just give me some of those ribs before they get cold."  
  
For the next half hour, Olivia fed Steve bites of ribs and beans and slaw, making small talk and asking him questions about the restaurant all the while. As Mark watched the exchange, he realized that this young woman did genuinely care about his son. Maybe she shouldn't have made that foolish promise, but she was determined to keep it. Somehow, he knew she intended to be there for Steve as long as he needed her. His son might never recover completely, but she would make sure he was ok regardless.  
  
Mark watched as Olivia cleaned up the remains of the meal. She kept up a continuous commentary as she packed away the candle, plate, silverware, tablecloth, and glass, but she left the bud vase on the table where Steve could see it. Then she washed Steve's face, brushed and flossed his teeth, and combed his hair for him, telling amusing anecdotes about people and events around the hospital as she did. She did an amazing impression of one of the hospital's administrators that forced even Mark to smile. She kept Steve laughing as she worked, and Mark was glad to see his son enjoying her company.  
  
Finally, Steve looked over at him, and said, "You know, I haven't been ignoring you, Dad. I was just hoping you'd find something to say to Olivia."  
  
"Oh, I have something to say all right," Mark agreed seriously.  
  
Olivia, who had been setting up the drinking apparatus with the water pitcher, froze and looked at him half in dread, half in expectation.  
  
Mark drew a deep breath and stared off into space. "I just want to say that I understand why she did what she did." He looked toward the ceiling, "I respect her decision." Finally, he looked Olivia in the eye and smiled, "And I trust her judgment."  
  
Steve looked to Olivia and saw one of her soft, sweet smiles creep over her face and light up her eyes. "Thanks, Mark. Thank you very much."  
  
Steve looked from his father to Olivia several times. "Will one of you please tell me what this is all about, now?"  
  
By some unspoken communication, they both agreed on the answer. In unison, they told him, "No." 


	9. Free at Last

(Chapter 9. September 6th through October 11th. CGH.)  
  
"Oh, God! Hey! Be Careful!"  
  
"Steve," Olivia said soothingly, "Take it easy."  
  
"Take it easy yourself. You're not the one hanging in mid air."  
  
Steve was indeed hanging. He was still in a body cast and he was being moved to physical therapy. The day before, Olivia had cut part of his cast away, freeing his arms and shoulders. He'd been moved, bed and all to the rehab wing of the Community General campus. Today, for the first time, the orderlies were using a hydraulic lift to move him from the bed to a gurney. They were going to put him on something called a tilt table. Olivia had explained that, just as they needed to turn him over on his stomach from time to time to prevent bedsores, they also needed to get him upright to keep his blood pressure up.  
  
"I thought it was a bad thing to get your blood pressure up," Steve had commented.  
  
"Usually it is," Olivia had agreed, "But when a patient spends a good deal of time reclining, like you have been and will continue doing, the blood pressure tends to be abnormally low. Then the first time he tries to stand, he passes out cold. By putting you on a tilt table, we can normalize it. That way, when you're ready to be up and around, you won't have to fight off any dizziness."  
  
"You know, Liv, the more I think about it, the worse this idea sounds," Steve said nervously as the orderlies settled him on a gurney and began to push him down the hall.  
  
Olivia took his hand and fell into step beside him. "Well, you've been laying flat for almost two weeks while we waited for your bones to heal enough to take a shift in position. We couldn't do this before because even with the cast, the weight of your body could easily distort the shape of your pelvis as it healed and create problems down the road. Your body can handle this now. The longer we wait the harder it's going to be."  
  
"I know," Steve said in a low voice, "But I'm not sure I'm ready to go through with this right now. What you described sounds pretty terrible."  
  
"Well, I've never had to suffer through it myself, but by all accounts, the sensations of free-fall and vertigo really stink."  
  
"Uh, Liv?"  
  
"Yeah, Steve?"  
  
"You're not making this any easier."  
  
She laughed at that. "I'm sorry, babe. What you're worrying about is the worst-case scenario. It probably won't be that bad, but even if it is terrible at first, it will pass. Then it will be no big deal."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
There was that word again. This time it was easy. "Promise!"  
  
By now, they had arrived at the PT room. Olivia gave Steve a minute to look over the tilt table before the orderlies moved him to it. It looked harmless enough; it was just a gray, padded table with a footrest, three straps, and some gears. Finally, he took a deep breath and told Olivia, "Ok. Let's do it."  
  
Olivia patted his arm and told him, "That's the spirit!"  
  
The orderlies used the lift to move him again and left Olivia to strap him down.  
  
"Ok, Steve," she said in her most calming voice, "We're going to take this nice and slow. I'm going to start moving the table to an upright position. All you need to do is stay calm and keep breathing normally. Let me know if you start to feel dizzy or uncomfortable."  
  
Steve heard a click and felt himself start to move. After being bedridden so long, it was a strange sensation to feel his feet sinking as his head came up. Suddenly things started to spin. "Liv, stop! Oh, man. This is bad."  
  
Olivia stopped the table, smoothed his hair, held his hand, and comforted him. "It's ok, just hang in there. It will pass soon."  
  
After several moments, the dizziness passed, and she started to move him again. Again, he had to ask her to stop and wait a few minutes. It was a slow process, but eventually, Olivia had moved the table all the way up, and Steve was resting comfortably at an 80-degree angle, almost, but not quite, upright.  
  
They had been chatting for several minutes when a young man entered the room to join them. "Hey, Doc. Is this the patient you were telling me about?"  
  
"Hey, Davis. Yeah." Turning to Steve, she said, "Steve Sloan, this is Davis Green. Davis is going to be your physical therapist. He's going to help you get back on your feet. Davis, Steve's been through a rough couple of weeks, but he's doing a lot better and he's ready to begin therapy now. I think the two of you will enjoy working together."  
  
Steve hadn't said a word yet.  
  
Looking at her wrist, then grabbing Davis's arm to check his watch, Olivia said, "Well, I have an appointment in about ten minutes. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Patting Steve's arm, she said, "I'll see you later."  
  
"Liv, wait!" Looking at Davis, Steve asked, "Uh, could you give us a minute?"  
  
"Sure, man. I'll be right outside, Doc." Davis left them alone in the PT room.  
  
"Liv, please say you're not going to leave me alone with a stranger. I just..."  
  
"Steve," Olivia interrupted gently, "You've got a long road ahead of you. I'll be here for you through it all," she promised, "But I can't be with you every minute. Besides, you don't need me for this; you can handle it. Davis is good at his job, and he's a really neat guy. Give this a chance."  
  
"Olivia, please don't do this."  
  
"It's done, Steve. I'll see you every day, and I'll let you beat me at poker; but I have other responsibilities," she insisted.  
  
"Liv, you're wrong. I do need you here. You've been here for everything since this whole mess started. I can't do this alone. I've come to depend on you."  
  
"That's part of the problem, Steve. You depend on me too much." She knew her words stung, and she tried to soften the blow. "What happened to you scared you. I was the first person there when you came to, and now you look to me to take care of you. I'm not going to do that. You don't need taking care of. You need your confidence back."  
  
Steve gulped and blinked back frightened tears. "You're right," he agreed, "but I don't know how to get it back."  
  
"You start today." Patting his arm, she reassured him, "You're well out of danger now, and you don't need me hovering all the time. You can trust Davis to get you back in shape. I wouldn't choose anyone less than the best for you. Will you give him a chance?"  
  
Reluctantly, Steve nodded. "Ok. I'll try."  
  
"Now, that's what I wanted to hear. Thanks, Steve. It'll be ok, you'll see."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
Olivia crossed her heart and winked, "Promise!"  
  
He watched her back as she walked away, admiring the sway of her hips and the bounce of her curls as she moved. She was letting her hair grow. Chagrined, he suddenly realized that he must have been getting better. It had been a while since he'd noticed things like that about her. He definitely liked the view from the back as well as from the front. A few moments later, the smiling young man came back in.  
  
"So," Davis said, "I hear you're a huge Laker's fan."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve's guts were in knots. He hadn't expected to be this nervous. He wished he had asked his dad to be with him, but no, he had insisted over and over that it was no big deal. Now he was by himself in a cold exam room, waiting for the results of the x-rays that would decide whether he would finally be free of the cast that had imprisoned him for over two months.  
  
Three weeks ago, Olivia had determined that his shattered pelvis had healed enough to withstand normal bowel function, and he'd had surgery to reverse his colostomy. When he woke from the surgery she, Jesse, Amanda, and his dad were all there. He had a new cast that covered from just above his knees to the lower part of his ribcage, and he had changed position. He was no longer flat on his back, but partially sitting. At first, the change in position had been so painful it made him throw up, but once his body adjusted, he'd felt better than he had since the shooting.  
  
Since the surgery, he had been doing everything Davis had asked to build upper body strength, and he'd been working on improving the flexibility in his ankles and knees. Now, he wanted to walk. God, he was tired of being stuck in bed! He drummed a tattoo on the cast with his fingers and wished Olivia would hurry. He was almost ready to call out when his dad walked in.  
  
"Dad, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Steve, I know you told me you didn't need me here today, but I was kind of hoping you wouldn't mind the company. They told me I could come in and see you. If you want, I can go."  
  
"No, Dad," Steve smiled uneasily, "I…well, I was kind of wishing you were here. Thanks for coming by."  
  
Mark nodded and smiled at his son. "Getting nervous, huh?"  
  
"If I don't get out of this thing, I'm going to go crazy. I want to walk again."  
  
Mark put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "Steve, you know you're not just going to get up and walk out of here when the cast comes off, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, Dad," Steve nodded, "I know it's going to be a whole lot of hard work before I can walk on my own. I'm ready to do that work, Dad. I just have to get out of this first." He knocked sharply on the plaster covering his thigh.  
  
"Well," Mark said. "Whatever happens, you've got a great physical therapist to help you along the way."  
  
"Dad? If Olivia says it can't come off yet, would you ask her to step out and leave us alone for a bit? I really don't want to embarrass myself in front of her by blowing up or, uh, breaking down."  
  
"Son," Mark patted Steve on the back. "That wouldn't even faze her. I don't know if you realize this, but she is already very impressed with you. She just thinks you're the bees knees."  
  
Steve blushed a bit and grinned. "Thanks, Dad. That's nice to know. We really hit it off those first couple days and, in spite of that misunderstanding, we had plans for dinner when all of this happened." Steve rubbed his hands over his face. "I was beginning to wonder if her feelings had changed because of..." he gestured futilely at his plaster- encased body, "You know?"  
  
"Well, I can't say exactly what her feelings for you are," Mark said, "But I wouldn't be surprised if she was just keeping you at arm's length because it looks bad to get too close to one's patients."  
  
"Yeah? Dad, I hate to ask, but could you find out for me?"  
  
Mark considered for a moment and said, "Nope. You need to do that for yourself." He didn't intend to tell Steve that Olivia had come to him over a week ago to discuss this very dilemma, and with Mark's blessing had decided to wait and see what Steve would do after he was discharged. He figured if his son forced the issue, they could stop "playing doctor" and get back to seeing how they worked as a couple. Olivia may have been too casual about giving her word that Steve would recover completely, but Mark was convinced that she loved his son. He considered them a good match and wanted to see them both happy.  
  
"But, Dad."  
  
Mark rolled his eyes. His son was a grown man, but sometimes he still whined like a teenager. "No, Steve, I won't do it."  
  
"Do what?" Olivia asked as she came into the room.  
  
"Override you if you say the cast can't come off," Mark covered smoothly. Looking at his son, he continued, "I told you before, Steve, Olivia is your doctor, and she is the expert. She knows far better than I do what's best for you right now."  
  
Olivia looked from one Sloan to the other and said, "I hope it doesn't come to that. I haven't seen these x-rays yet, so, shall we all find out together?"  
  
As Olivia turned on the x-ray viewer and slipped the films into place, Steve mouthed the words, "Thanks, Dad," behind her back. Mark nodded an acknowledgement.  
  
Both men watched intently as she studied the films. Her face betrayed nothing, and Steve suddenly knew she really had been letting him win at poker all along. She sighed deeply and rubbed a hand over her mouth.  
  
"Steve, I'm sorry."  
  
Steve's stomach turned over and he nearly catapulted his lunch across the room. Darkness was closing in and the room was spinning. Why did things have to be this bad?  
  
"From the looks of these x-rays, we could have had you out of that thing over a week ago."  
  
Everything came to a sudden stop. He wasn't sure what he was hearing now. He looked up, and there she was, smiling at him with a mischievous light in her eyes. His dad was grinning from ear to ear, and Olivia was saying something that sounded like good news. "I knew the diet and hormone therapy were going to work, but I never expected them to work this well or this fast. It's utterly amazing."  
  
Steve was confused. Looking up at her, he commanded, "Tell me again."  
  
If possible she smiled even wider, crouched down to look him in the eye and said, "Babe, it's time to get you out of that thing."  
  
He let out a tremendous whoop of sheer joy and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Oh, thank God. Oh, thank God," he said.  
  
Olivia gave him a quick, tight hug and a pat on the back. Then she pulled away and said, "Easy, big fella. Steve, you do know this isn't the end, right? It's just the beginning."  
  
"Yeah, Liv, I know, and I am so ready to get started I can't even tell you."  
  
"Well, then, let me find a couple of orderlies to get you up on the table. Mark, you'll be helping me remove the cast, right?"  
  
"You just try and stop me," Mark said with a grin. 


	10. First Steps

(Chapter 10. October 26. CGH physical therapy room.)  
  
Steve looked down the length of the parallel bars. Two weeks ago, when Olivia had removed the cast, she explained that the fixator needed to stay on for a while longer. His right leg still hadn't quite grown back to the length of his left. None of that had mattered to him, though. He was too excited about walking again to care. Today it was another story.  
  
The other end of the bars seemed impossibly far away. He knew he had regained his great upper body strength during the first phase of his rehab, but now he felt weak all over. Davis had spent days working on his now free legs, helping him with strength-building exercises and bending and stretching them to help him regain flexibility. It had been a pain like none he'd ever known, but he had endured, knowing it was necessary if he was to walk again.  
  
Just this morning, Davis had explained carefully exactly what he needed to do to get up, travel the length of the bars, turn around, and sit down again, but Steve was afraid to try. He started to shake.  
  
The room was cold. Since normal clothes wouldn't fit over the fixator, he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown and a bathrobe, and his dad, Jesse, Amanda, and Olivia were all there to watch him embarrass himself. He took a deep breath, and levered himself up out of the chair. Waiting wasn't going to make it any easier. Davis stepped behind him and helped him balance himself. At least if he fell, there would be someone there to catch him.  
  
He took one slow, shuffling step and felt pain shoot through his body. The next step forced tears to his eyes. He was already breathing hard and trembling. He never imagined it would be this hard. Another step, and another, and he paused for breath. He vaguely heard his dad and friends cheering him on but the sound of the blood rushing in his ears and his own heavy breathing drowned out their words. He was drenched in sweat.  
  
He'd only walked a third the length of the bars. He saw Olivia bring his wheelchair around. He was going to make it. He had to make it. He tried another step, and felt his left knee buckle. Hell! He was going to go down right there, before God and everyone. No, wait. He didn't hit the floor. Davis was still supporting him.  
  
"Ok, dude. Let's just stop here for a minute and let you catch your breath."  
  
Steve stood there, partly supporting himself, but mostly letting Davis hold him up. "Davis, I'm never going to make it to the end," he whispered. "Have Olivia bring me the chair, please."  
  
"No way, man. You're going to finish this."  
  
"Davis, I can't."  
  
"You will."  
  
Steve knew he wasn't going to win the argument. He hated to be seen like this. He felt so weak and afraid. "This sucks," he told Davis, trying to keep the whine of frustration from his voice.  
  
"Yeah, but you'll manage." The two men stood there a few more moments, Davis supporting and encouraging Steve as Steve struggled to regain his composure. Finally, Davis told him, "Now get moving."  
  
Steve took another step and moaned in pain. Tears of agony came streaming down his face. "My God, this is worse than being shot."  
  
He took another step. "Aaah!"  
  
Both knees gave out. He couldn't support himself any more, and Davis couldn't quite hold him up. He had to let Steve slip gently to the floor.  
  
"You punked out on me, Sloan. You gave up."  
  
"Go to hell!" Steve shouted in a surge of temper. He was humiliated in front of his father and his friends. He'd done his best, and he couldn't make it. The floor was cold on his bare legs and bottom. He started to sob. "My God, this is awful." At the edge of his vision, he saw his dad coming toward him. Then he saw Olivia holding him back, and he realized he wasn't going to get any help from them.  
  
Davis was in his face now, taunting him quietly. "What's it gonna be, Sloan? Sit on your ass and feel sorry for yourself, or get up and finish what you started?"  
  
"Damn you!" Steve screamed, and took a swing that Davis easily avoided. Steve had put so much into the punch, that it upset his balance and he fell over. He curled up on the cold floor in despair and wept.  
  
Davis was immediately at his side, hand on his shoulder, speaking in a low, steady voice. "Your old man and your friends and your girlfriend are right here watching this, Steve. They are not going to help you. This is something you have to do for yourself."  
  
Steve writhed on the floor. "Get away from me!" he yelled.  
  
Davis would not be moved, he just continued talking, "You've got stones, man. Brass balls. Think about how you got here in the first place. Your partner and Doc Regis told me all about it. That creep shot you six times. Six times, Sloan. He blew your leg apart! One of the bullets went clear through you and wounded another cop. What did you do about it, Sloan?"  
  
Steve was hearing him; Davis knew that. When he didn't get an answer, he asked again, "I said, what did you do about it?"  
  
Steve choked out his answer. "I got him."  
  
"I can't hear you. What did you do about it?"  
  
Louder, Steve said, "I got him."  
  
"That's right, Sloan," Davis continued. "You stood your ground and you...got...him. If you give up now, it doesn't matter. Don't let that scum get the best of you. You get up off this floor and you walk, dammit. Walk to the end of these bars and sit down with some dignity."  
  
A moan tore itself from Steve's throat as he sat upright. "That's it, Steve," Davis encouraged him quietly.  
  
He cried out again as he grabbed one of the bars and pulled. "All right, man!"  
  
With Davis's help, he stood up again and turned to face the wheelchair. "Do it, brother, do it!" Davis was cheering him on every move he made.  
  
He took a step. "Yeah, man!"  
  
He took another step, and another. "Almost there!"  
  
One more step. He was at the end of the bars. "You got him, Steve! You got him again!"  
  
Steve turned around and sat heavily in the waiting wheelchair. He was shaking and soaked with sweat from fear or exertion, he knew not which. His breath came hard and fast. Tears were streaming down his face, and he didn't know why. His whole body was tingling, and he hurt everywhere, but he had made it. He looked around. His dad and Jesse were both on the verge of tears. Amanda was weeping unashamedly, and Davis was cheering him like he had just won the Super Bowl.  
  
Then he saw Olivia, standing several feet away from the others, staring off into nothing. Her face was serene. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and she was rubbing her shoulders as if trying to ward off a chill. Steve swore he saw her mouth the words, "Thank you." Then she met his gaze, focused on him, and slowly, softly, she smiled at him and nodded. There would be no emotional outburst, no weeping or cheering from her, just a smile and a nod. Suddenly Steve understood. She knew. She was the only one who really knew, and had known all along, that he could, and he would, walk again.  
  
He rested, and waited for his breathing to slow down. When he could speak comfortably, he said, "I'm done. I'm all done in. Take me back to my room, please."  
  
With some surprise, Mark said, "But son, you just got started."  
  
"And I'm finished, Dad," Steve insisted. "I can't do any more today. I won't. I am not going to perform on command." He shook his head and was about to continue when Olivia rubbed his shoulder gently.  
  
"It's ok," she said to Mark. Then to Davis, "Will you please help him get settled in his room?"  
  
"Sure thing, Doc."  
  
"But, Steve..."  
  
"Dad, leave me alone."  
  
"Mark," Olivia interrupted as he moved to follow. "I need to talk to you."  
  
As Steve was wheeled out, Mark continued, "Olivia, he just got started. He needs to keep working if he's going to get better."  
  
"One more day won't make any difference," Olivia told him. "He's done enough for now, Mark. It was enough to prove to himself that he could. He earned his rest."  
  
She motioned Jesse and Amanda over. "I need to talk to all of you and you're not going to like what I have to say."  
  
Three concerned faces looked to her for an explanation. "I don't want you to come here again until I say so."  
  
"Now, Olivia, he's my son, and I will see him," Mark insisted.  
  
"I know, but I don't want you, any of you, to see him here."  
  
"Why, Liv?" Jesse wanted to know.  
  
Olivia spoke directly to Mark, but she answered Jesse's question. "Your son is a very proud man. It cost him a lot to let you see him struggle that way. It may actually have been more difficult than the physical exertion. I let you all stay, just today, so that he could show you and himself that he could do it. Now I'm asking...telling...you to keep your distance from this place."  
  
"But, Olivia, we're his friends, his family," Amanda said. "We want to be here for him."  
  
Olivia continued speaking only to Mark. She knew that if she could get him to understand, Jesse and Amanda would follow his lead. "You can give him support and encouragement and you can spoil him with love," she said with a smile, "but not here. He needs this to be a safe place."  
  
"Safe?" Jesse echoed.  
  
Olivia nodded to Mark. "Safe for him to lose his temper, and get discouraged, and hate the world. Safe for him to take risks and say unkind things. He needs to know there is some place where, no matter how bad it gets, he can show what he really feels and know that no one will care. He needs to know that when he's through feeling sorry for himself and being angry, someone will be there to tell him to stop whining and get back to work."  
  
She could see that Mark was beginning to get the picture. "You all are too close to Steve. He doesn't want you to see him in pain. He doesn't want you to see him suffer, and he doesn't want to lash out at you when he gets frustrated. If you're here, he'll hold back."  
  
"To spare us," Mark said.  
  
Olivia nodded. "If you're here, you'll only hinder his recovery. He needs someone to be tough on him, now. Davis can do that, but not if we're here."  
  
Mark ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath. "Ok," he agreed. "We'll stay away."  
  
"Thank you, Mark. I knew you'd understand. I'll check on him every day, and I'll ask every day if you can come by. As soon as he says yes, I'll let you know."  
  
Mark nodded, "You just be sure you take good care of my son."  
  
"You know I will, Mark. I promise."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve was resting when Olivia walked into his room. The TV was on, but he was sitting up in bed with his head back and his eyes closed. She took a seat in the chair beside the bed.  
  
"Hey, Liv."  
  
"How did you know it was me?"  
  
Steve's smile was tired when he said, "You always smell like lavender."  
  
Olivia chuckled, "Ok, if you say so."  
  
There was a companionable silence for several moments before Olivia broke it. "You did it, Steve."  
  
"Yeah, but you always knew I would, didn't you?"  
  
"Well, I wasn't surprised when you did."  
  
"Everyone else was."  
  
"Steve, I think they were just really happy for you."  
  
Steve finally opened his eyes and looked at her. "You never lied to me before, Liv. Don't start now. It's unbecoming. You were the only person in that room who thought I could do it."  
  
"Davis wouldn't have let you try if he didn't think you could make it."  
  
Steve swallowed and looked away. "He didn't believe in me, Liv. I could hear it in his voice. He was astounded that I made it to the end of those bars. He believed in you. He trusted your judgment about me."  
  
Steve let his eyes close. His mouth became a tight line and his brow furrowed. His face became a mask of pain, emotional or physical, Olivia couldn't tell. She moved from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking his hand and stroking his arm, she said, "Talk to me, Steve."  
  
He took a shaky breath and said, "I don't know if I can go through that again tomorrow." A tear slowly made its way down his cheek. "I don't know if I can face that kind of pain again now that I know it's waiting for me."  
  
Olivia smoothed his hair, wiped away the tear, and told him, "Rest now. You will go back tomorrow, because now you know you can. You'll go back the next day, too, and the next and the one after that, and before long, you'll be well again. Today will just be a painful memory. Then it will be forgotten. I promise."  
  
Olivia sat there for several more minutes, stroking his hair and whispering encouraging words until Steve fell into a sound sleep. When she was sure he would not wake, she stood and gave him a tender kiss on the forehead. "My darling," she whispered, "You will be strong again, sooner than you might think, and when you are, I will still be beside you." 


	11. The Split

(Chapter 11. October 27. CGH. While Olivia's arrangements with the company, Wishing Wells, are entirely fictitious, the company actually does exist. Information is available at: www.dawn-wells.com)  
  
Olivia woke Steve early the next day.  
  
"Boxers or briefs?"  
  
"Wha...? Huh?"  
  
"Boxers or briefs, Steve?"  
  
"For breakfast?"  
  
Olivia started to giggle, "No, Steve," she laughed. "Not to eat, to wear. I'm going to help you get dressed for physical therapy."  
  
Steve was finally fully awake. "Liv, I can't get anything on over this gadget you have on my leg."  
  
"You just let me worry about that. Now answer my question, boxers or briefs?"  
  
Steve threw his hands in the air in frustration and said, "Boxers."  
  
"Hah! I knew it!" She indicated a large basin of warm water, a razor, shaving foam, a washcloth, and a bar of soap on the bedside table. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes. Can you wash up while I'm gone?"  
  
"Yeah, but, Liv, what are you up to?"  
  
"You'll see," she said mysteriously, and slipped out the door.  
  
Steve turned to the bedside table, and started to shave. He was still feeling apprehensive about physical therapy. He'd never hurt that bad in his life, and he wasn't sure he could face it again. As he finished shaving, he decided he would try. Olivia believed he could do what was necessary to get back on his feet. He would trust her.  
  
As he slipped out of his hospital gown, he noticed the scars that marked his body. He'd been hurt so many times. Why did he keep coming back for more?  
  
The stitches and scrapes he'd received in his biking days were nothing. There was his wound from Viet Nam. It had won him a medal. He used to think it was a badge of honor. Fat lot he knew. His hands were scarred from burns he'd received years ago fighting a forest fire that had threatened his and all of his neighbors' homes in the canyons.  
  
There was a bullet crease on his bicep from his first date with Lily Wilson. Her own brother had killed her because he thought she was blackmailing him for posing as a doctor.  
  
There was a scar on his hand from a knife wound. Eddie Gault had threatened him and his dad and his friends for days and finally kidnapped Amanda. Gault had put the knife down but refused to release Amanda e in an attempt to make Steve go to jail for shooting him. Steve hadn't shot the creep, but when they fought, the man had grabbed the knife again and sliced him open.  
  
The scars on his chest from the bullets that had nearly killed him brought back memories he had to shy away from.  
  
Now his body was riddled with new scars. Six bullets, the stoma from his colostomy and the incision in his abdomen where Dr. Evans had created and later reversed it, and the several holes in his leg where the fixator was still screwed into his flesh. Six bullets. Why hadn't they killed him? He wasn't wishing they had, just wondering why they hadn't. He'd been given yet another chance. What was he supposed to do with it? He felt so lost.  
  
He worked the soap into a lather with the washcloth, and rubbed himself down with it. He was still a little tender in some places. As he washed carefully around some of his still-healing wounds, it occurred to him for the first time in his life that he was ugly. He'd always worn a shirt to cover the worst of his scars in deference to his father and friends who would find it painful to be reminded of so many close calls, but he'd never thought of himself as ugly before. He didn't like the way it felt. He finished washing quickly and self-consciously put the hospital gown back on.  
  
He had just finished when Olivia came back in. She tossed a gym bag onto the bed beside him, and said, "I think you'll like this." Her face rumpled into a frown. "What's the matter?"  
  
Sometimes Steve hated the way she did that.  
  
"Just thinking." He didn't like the funk he was in and he needed to get out of it. He'd been letting things bounce him around for weeks now. He needed to make things happen, set some goals, find a direction, and get going.  
  
"Some unpleasant thoughts, I'd say. Want to talk?" She could read him almost as well as his dad. It gave him the creeps.  
  
"Not this time."  
  
"Ok. Maybe later." At least she wasn't as insistent as his dad. "Look what I brought you!"  
  
She unzipped the gym bag and pulled out a pair of black silk boxers printed with Jack-o-lanterns and ghosts. Steve gave her a pained look. "Oh, no."  
  
"Well, I thought they were cute."  
  
"You would. I guess I've lost track of time. Is it Halloween already?"  
  
"Almost. It's the 27th."  
  
Steve sighed. "It's been over two months."  
  
Olivia raked her fingers gently through his hair and then rubbed his back in wide circles. Steve took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. Olivia didn't know whether to say something or be silent. She thought he might be praying. Then he said softly, "I'm going to make it, Liv. Home by Thanksgiving, my medical release by Christmas, and back to work by New Years." He looked up at her then, his eyes searching hers. "Can I do it?"  
  
She draped the boxers over the bedrail and stood up. She was silent for so long Steve was afraid to hear the answer when it finally came. She walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down again, looked him in the eye, and said, "I'm not going to lie to you, Steve. I don't know."  
  
Steve fought the urge to look away, to object, to mourn. He continued looking at Olivia. "I know you will recover," she said. "You will get back to work, but I am not sure what you will be able to do. New Years might be pushing it."  
  
Steve bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood. He would not fall apart this time. He was tired of letting things get him down. He would take what life gave him and do what he could with it.  
  
Olivia continued. "This really will be the fight of your life, Steve. You have survived worse injuries before, but this will be a nagging one. It's going to be harder to shake."  
  
His eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement.  
  
"I read your charts, and talked to Jesse and Amanda. I know what you went through before. This is going to be harder. You aren't just trying to hold on to your life this time, you have to put the pieces back together. You have to take your life back."  
  
Steve waited silently. Olivia seemed to have more to say.  
  
After a moment, she continued. "Ten years ago, you would have been crippled for life. Five years ago, you might have had a fifty-fifty chance. This study I have you in is the start of something brand new, and you are its very beginning."  
  
Steve realized now that she was not trying to answer his question really, she was just thinking aloud.  
  
Olivia stared out the window. "Some things have gone better than I ever imagined. I can't believe your shattered pelvis healed so quickly and so beautifully. On the other hand, I had hoped to remove that fixator long ago, and there is a lot of scarring in your muscle tissue."  
  
She looked him in the eye, and asked, "Do you realize that what you are willing do in therapy will determine what you can do for the rest of your life? It will make the difference between going back on the streets and taking a desk job." She tapped chest lightly with her forefinger and said, "But I'm not just talking about physical recovery, Steve."  
  
He nodded. "I know. I'll do what I have to. Name it."  
  
"There will be set backs. There will be days when you wonder why you bother to try. When you want to give up the most you will have to work the hardest. You can never give up; never slack off. Whether it's two weeks or two years, until it's over, recovery will be your full time job. It will have to be your life. Can you accept that?"  
  
Steve said the only thing he could think of, "I want to be what I was before. I will do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes."  
  
Olivia seemed to reach a decision. "With a lot of luck and everything you've got inside you, you can make it by New Years."  
  
"I'm going to do it, Liv. Just watch me."  
  
"I will." In that uncanny way of hers, she lightened the mood so fast it made Steve's head spin. With a smile, she said, "Now, let's get you dressed."  
  
Steve grinned, sighed, and said, "How are you going to get them over the fixator?"  
  
"I'm not. Yesterday I realized that we had to do better for you than a gown and robe. You must have been freezing in the PT room." She picked up the boxers, took hold of one of the legs, and pulled. With a terrible ripping sound, the seam came apart. "I just love Velcro!" There was the smile that lit up her eyes with a mixture of mischief, affection, and childlike delight. God, how he loved to see it! "Here you go!" She handed him the shorts.  
  
"What do you want me to do with them?"  
  
"Duh! Put them on."  
  
"You're going to watch?!?!"  
  
"Steve, I've seen it all a thousand times before," she said. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
Steve felt himself blushing and closed his eyes. Any other time he would have thought nothing of the comment. He knew it was just a teasing compliment, but it cut him to the quick. He was too well aware of just how bad he looked under his hospital gown.  
  
He shook his head and said, "Liv, I'm not comfortable doing this."  
  
She became serious again. "What's eating you, Steve?"  
  
Carefully studying the boxers in his lap, he said, "I'd just rather get dressed in private, that's all."  
  
After a long moment in which Steve refused to say anything more, Olivia said, "I know you're lying because you won't look me in the eye. It's the same way when we play poker, and it's why you always lose."  
  
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but she ignored him and continued, "It's ok. Sooner or later, you'll want to talk about it. I'll bet it has something to do with what was on your mind when I walked in." She put the gym bag in his lap and said kindly, "For now, there's a t-shirt and a pair of sweats in here. I want to know whether you think it would be easier to get the sweats on if the zipper went from bottom to top. I'll be at the nurses' station. Buzz when you're dressed."  
  
As she turned to go, he said weakly, "Liv, I..."  
  
She cut him off. "Steve, it's all right." She squeezed his shoulder gently. "You're allowed to keep some thoughts to yourself. You know I'm here if you need me, but you don't have to tell me everything." She slipped out the door, and left him to change.  
  
Steve started with the shirt she had brought him. It was a good quality cotton shirt and it fit well. It said LAPD across the back. He guessed it was her way of providing encouragement. Her thoughtfulness made him smile.  
  
Next, he slid the unaltered leg of the boxers over his left leg. When he got to his hip, he realized he had to figure out a way to get the shorts all the way on. He was still too weak to stand up and do it. He considered buzzing Olivia for help, but then he thought of all his scars and decided against it. Besides, the sooner he could do this for himself, the sooner he could go home.  
  
After some thought, he grabbed the bedrail to his right, pulled himself onto that side and slid the shorts the rest of the way on. Then he turned himself to the left, and with a little squirming and straining, he situated the right leg of the shorts around his hip and thigh and closed the Velcro at the seam.  
  
It was hard work getting dressed by himself! The sweats were going to be even harder than the shorts. He suddenly realized it was the first time in two months that he had put his own clothes on. He got into the sweats in much the same way he had the shorts, but the zipper was a problem. Olivia had inserted an extra bit of fabric at the knee to accommodate the fixator, but above the knee, they were a little snug. He ended up stretching the waistband as far as he could to get it in front of him. Once he got the zipper started, he could only close it a few inches. The tab was too small for him to get a decent grip on it, and as he went farther down his leg, it was harder and harder to pull the pant leg around where he could handle it.  
  
He gave up when his back started to spasm. As he struggled to catch his breath from the pain, he buzzed for Olivia. He was moaning in pain when she walked in.  
  
"Steve! What's the matter?"  
  
"Just a back spasm, but, jeeze, it hurts."  
  
She stood beside him and massaged the strained muscles. "What do you think of the alterations I made?"  
  
"Very clever," he said, "At least as good as the call button, the remote, and the drinking straw. But the sweats are too small, and I think the zipper would be easier to deal with if it went down the front of the leg instead of the side."  
  
Olivia agreed, "I thought that might be the case, but I also thought this way, you could take out the zipper when you don't need it any more, sew up the seam and continue using the sweats."  
  
Steve nodded. "Yeah, you could, but sweats are cheap, and I can tell you from experience, it's a small price to pay for your independence. The reason my back started to spasm was that I had to twist and turn so much to get the zipper around to where I could work with it. Oh, and the zipper pull is too small to grip easily. I couldn't finish zipping up."  
  
Olivia straightened out the leg of the sweatpants, pulled the zipper closed, and helped Steve into a sitting position.  
  
"With a bigger zipper running down the front, I think I could have finished it myself."  
  
Olivia nodded. "Ok. I'll keep that in mind. By tomorrow I'll have something more manageable for you to try on."  
  
"Liv, you don't have to do this."  
  
"I know. But I want to."  
  
"Where did you get the idea anyway?"  
  
"From Mary Ann."  
  
"Mary Ann who?" Steve hated it when she was cryptic.  
  
"The Mary Ann, Steve. Dawn Wells, from Gilligan's Island."  
  
"Liv, back track, rewind, or do whatever it is you do when you confuse people, and start again, please."  
  
"Ok," Olivia sat on the bed and started over as if she was speaking to a slow child. "Do you remember Gilligan's Island?"  
  
Steve nodded, "Yeah, who doesn't?"  
  
"Remember Mary Ann?"  
  
Steve closed his eye and grinned, "Ohhhhh yeahhhh."  
  
"Yet another fifteen-year-old boy with a crush?"  
  
"Mmmmmm-hmmmm," he sighed dreamily, then caught himself, "What? No!" It was no use. He could feel the blush rise in his cheeks.  
  
"Whatever, Steve," Olivia said, making it plain with a roll of her eyes that she didn't believe him. "Any way, you know her real name is Dawn Wells, right?"  
  
"Yeah. That's pretty common knowledge."  
  
"She has a company called Wishing Wells that makes clothing for disabled people. She got the idea while caring for her grandmother. The clothes are designed to be comfortable to wear and easy to get on and off. Some of it's pretty nice stuff. I've submitted a few patterns to the company over the years specifically for my patients who have to wear some kind of special apparatus like a fixator or a halo or something of that nature."  
  
"Really?" Steve was impressed. "So, you're a fashion designer, too? Is there anything you don't do?"  
  
"Oh, I just do what interests me."  
  
"So have they bought any of your designs?"  
  
"I'm not selling them. I don't need the money, but I do want to see these things made available to my patients. Since I don't have the time or the business sense to run a clothing company, I have a lawyer working out the details so that a percentage of her profits from my patterns over the next several years goes into a free clinic back home."  
  
"So, are you going to give this pattern to her?"  
  
"When I get the bugs worked out, sure."  
  
Steve looked at her and said in a voice that spoke volumes, "You're amazing."  
  
It was finally Olivia's turn to blush. "I wouldn't go that far."  
  
"I would." Steve said softly. "Amazing, incredible, wonderful," he let his words settle a moment, then continued, "Liv, what we started that evening, before I was shot..."  
  
"Can wait until you're better," she interrupted him briskly. "Steve, I like you a lot, but we can't do this. You're my patient and I'm your doctor. That's the limit of our relationship. Everything else is in a box. Maybe later we can open that box together, but for now, it has to wait."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, hospital rules, for one thing."  
  
"Ok, and everything I've heard about you says you make your own rules when it suits." Steve was unconvinced. "Besides, you've been pretty chummy with me sometimes, and I can't believe you're as..." he searched for a word, "solicitous with all your patients."  
  
"I...get the lines blurred, sometimes, but I still need to keep a distance so that I can properly manage your care, Steve."  
  
He decided it was time to make something happen on the romance front as well as in his recovery. "Bull," he said. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her to him and placed a passionate kiss on her lips. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close and kissed her again.  
  
Olivia froze for a moment. Then she pulled back and slapped him hard. She jumped from the bed and moved several steps away. She had a terrified look in her eyes as she shouted, "Don't you ever, ever do that again!" To Steve it was as if she had suddenly turned into a wild creature, all fear and instinct. He knew she had issues, but he hadn't imagined one kiss would upset her so much. She backpedaled to the door, cast one more glance around the room, and said, "I'll tell Davis to come and get you as soon as breakfast is over."  
  
"Liv, I..."  
  
She turned and ran out, pulling the door shut behind her.  
  
"I'm sorry," Steve said to the empty room. 


	12. Playing by the Rules

(Chapter 12. November 16-20. Olivia's office and physical therapy.)  
  
Olivia, Mark, and Davis were gathered in Olivia's office discussing the possibility of sending Steve home in time for Thanksgiving. He didn't know the meeting was being held. If they decided he was ready to go home, they wanted it to be a nice surprise; and if they decided he needed to stay a while longer, they didn't want him to be discouraged. For Olivia it was a tough decision, and since she was his doctor, Mark and Davis had to convince her.  
  
"The worst thing we can do is send him home too soon," Olivia said.  
  
"I know, Doc," Davis agreed, "But I'm telling you, he's ready. I know you've been monitoring his progress, but if you'd been spending more time with him one-on-one, you'd know he doesn't need to be here any more. He can dress, bathe, and maneuver around obstacles. It would be almost as bad to keep him too long. He told me about his goals, Doc, and I think if we can keep him on track, sending him home will be our best guarantee for a full recovery."  
  
"I can take off as long as necessary to help him adjust, Olivia," Mark promised, "And Jesse and Amanda have offered to help any time we need it."  
  
"Well, all the bones are healed," Olivia conceded. "Mark, where's he going to stay? He won't be able to climb the steps to that downstairs apartment all the time."  
  
"Jesse helped me set most of his things up in the guest room upstairs. He'll be very comfortable there until he's able to move back down to his own place."  
  
Olivia nodded. "Davis, in your opinion, are there any concerns whatsoever about sending him home?"  
  
"None. I might worry about his over-doing it, but frankly, I think he'll wear himself out before he injures himself."  
  
Olivia looked at Mark, "You know him best. Do you concur?"  
  
"Yes, I've talked to him about this before, and he understands. He knows how to recognize his limits while still doing as much as he can."  
  
Olivia nodded again. "I'll check in on him today, and I'll look in on therapy Monday and Tuesday. If I am satisfied with what I see, I'll examine him Tuesday afternoon, and if everything checks out, I'll send him home Wednesday morning."  
  
"Ok, then it's settled," Davis said.  
  
"Great," Mark said, "I'm going to invite Jesse and Amanda to Thanksgiving dinner. Davis, Liv, I'd be delighted to have you both there."  
  
Davis smiled and shook his head. "It would be an honor, Doc, but my mom wants me home in Pennsylvania."  
  
"Pennsylvania? I didn't know that's where you were from."  
  
Davis chuckled. "You never asked, and I never told. Fact is, that's where I met Doc Regis. I was one of her first patients when she came home. I've been following her around for...just over five years now. I figured working with her would be good for my career. Next year I plan to go back east and reapply to med-school. I had to quit years ago when my dad died, and I've been saving ever since to go back. I figure a glowing reference from the Doc here will pretty much guarantee me a spot."  
  
Mark grinned, "No kidding. Well, not that you'll need it with Olivia's recommendation, but I'd be pleased to write a letter of reference for you if you like."  
  
"I'd appreciate that. I'll look you up when I start applying."  
  
"Liv, how about you? Will you be there for turkey and all the trimmings?"  
  
"I'll have to think about it, Mark," she said, distractedly, "but thank you for the invitation." Looking at her wrist where a watch should have been, Olivia decided it was time to break up the meeting. "Well, gentlemen," she said, standing as she spoke. "I have rounds to attend to, and Davis, I am sure you have a patient waiting for you."  
  
Mark and Davis stood as well, and, as they moved toward the door, she asked them, "Let's keep this between us until I examine Steve, ok?"  
  
"Sure thing, Docs." Davis agreed. "See you both around."  
  
"Bye, Davis," Mark said, but he made no move to leave. When the younger man was gone, he turned to Olivia and said, "Liv sit down. We need to talk."  
  
"Mark, I know what it's about, and I don't want to discuss it."  
  
"I'm not giving you a choice," Mark insisted, "You are my son's doctor, and from what he tells me, he's barely seen you in the past three weeks."  
  
Olivia sighed, and sat behind her desk. "I have been looking in on him, and I've kept my promise to you about asking every day if you can come see him in PT. Davis tells me he keeps saying no."  
  
"What about your promise to take good care of him for me?" Mark questioned gently.  
  
Olivia responded defensively. "I've been checking his charts and speaking with Davis and his nurses. I am fully aware of his condition, Mark."  
  
"It's not the same as actually talking to your patient, Liv, and you know it."  
  
"Mark, I can't see him right now."  
  
"He told me about what happened between you. He says he's sorry. He never expected it to upset you so much."  
  
Olivia sat silently for several moments, making a decision. Finally, she looked at the clock, looked at Mark, and said, "There's quite a long story behind it, a lot that Steve doesn't know. Have you got a couple hours?"  
  
Mark nodded. "If it will help you two work things out, yes. He thinks very highly of you, Liv, and he's hurt that you don't come by to look in on him like you did before."  
  
Olivia motioned Mark to shut the office door. She took a deep, calming breath and began. "What I am about to tell you will be protected under doctor-patient confidentiality, Mark. That morning at your house when you examined me, you really had no idea what you were dealing with. Now I am going to tell you, but it stays in this office, ok?"  
  
Mark nodded.  
  
"It all started over 20 years ago. I was just twelve years old...."  
  
  
  
  
  
Over an hour later, Olivia blew her nose again, and told Mark, "My life has been a battle for so long now. I have good days and bad days, and for the past ten years or so, the good days have greatly outnumbered the bad ones. I like Steve a lot, but I cannot, I will not, be pushed. I can't handle it."  
  
"I understand, now, Olivia. Your story explains so many things I have noticed about you."  
  
"Like what, Mark?"  
  
Mark thought for a moment, and then came up with a good example. "All of the family photos at your house and in your office are old, from the seventies; and when you talk about your family, it's always about the distant past, never something that happened just last week."  
  
Olivia frowned. "I never realized that. Has anyone else noticed?"  
  
"Not that I know of," Mark told her. "Sometimes Jesse can tell when you're having a bad day, and Amanda thinks it's kind of weird that you never stop by her lab to say hello; but other than that, I don't think so. Steve's been too concerned with recovering to have a clue. He doesn't know any of this. You have to tell him something."  
  
Olivia shook her head. "I can't do that right now, Mark. Tell him I'll see him next week. I'll explain what I can then, but it might not be much."  
  
Mark agreed, and said, "If you're going to be involved, you need to tell him the whole story."  
  
"Mark, if we get serious, I won't let him go into anything blind. If it gets too intense, I will tell him everything. I won't let him be hurt. I promise."  
  
"If there is one thing I have learned about you in the past three months, Olivia, it's that you keep your promises," Mark conceded, "but you have to realize, my son sometimes wears his heart on his sleeve. He is already serious, and he's already been hurt."  
  
"I'll protect him as much as I can, but I have to take care of myself, too."  
  
"I understand, that, Liv, but please, be careful with my son."  
  
"I'll do my best, Mark."  
  
  
  
  
  
As she had agreed in her meeting with Davis and Mark, Olivia checked in on Steve during therapy Monday. She found he was making good progress and could actually walk quite well and quite far with a walker. He kept his distance from her, but once, when they made eye contact, he nodded a greeting. Olivia found herself looking forward to seeing him Tuesday afternoon, and she had to wonder if he felt the same.  
  
When she stopped by PT Tuesday morning, Steve approached her. It seemed he had trouble looking her in the eye, but he asked her, "When should I come by your office?"  
  
"Davis will bring you around after PT. By the way, you're looking good."  
  
Steve smiled slightly and said, "Thanks. I'm glad you noticed. I've been working hard."  
  
The silence between them became uncomfortable.  
  
"Well," Olivia said, looking at her wrist even though she wasn't wearing a watch, "I need to go. I'll see you around three."  
  
"Yeah," Steve agreed, "See you then." He turned around and headed back to the mats where he'd been exercising.  
  
Olivia watched Steve walk away, and felt her heart soften. She knew she had fallen hard for him, and Mark had assured her that Steve cared as deeply for her. She was tremendously fond of his father and friends. She just didn't know if she was ready to let her heart go after all this time.  
  
She stepped into the hall and found herself shaking. The prospect of a happy future was rather frightening. She had lost so much in the past that she was afraid to care, but she was also tired of being alone. No friends, no family. She made a decision. She came to California to start over one more time. This time it would be a good beginning with a happy ending.  
  
With that resolution made, she started her rounds.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve was awfully uneasy about seeing Olivia this afternoon. Almost from the day he'd met her, he had known there was something terrible in her past, but he'd had no idea one kiss, even if it was uninvited, would upset her so much. He hoped they would be able to talk about it after the examination, but he wasn't sure if they would. He didn't know where he stood with her anymore, and it really disturbed him. She'd taken very good care of him, and he was grateful, but sometimes he wished she wasn't his doctor. He wanted a more personal relationship with her, and she wouldn't allow it. When Davis wheeled him into her office, he was still worrying over what the meeting might bring.  
  
"Hello, Steve! How was physical therapy today?"  
  
She was as friendly as ever, but it seemed forced. The smile didn't light up her eyes. Oh great, he had pissed her off, or worse yet, driven her off.  
  
"It's hard work, but it's paying off," he said cautiously.  
  
"I can see that. How have you been feeling? Any pain?"  
  
"Well, some days are better than others. The pain medication you prescribed works wonders."  
  
Olivia smiled; again, there was no light in her eyes. "I had a feeling it would. Did Davis tell you I am going to examine you today?"  
  
"Yeah, he did."  
  
"Ok. There's an open exam room just down the hall, do you want me to take you there or do you want to go there on your own?"  
  
"I, uh, I'd really appreciate a push. I'm worn out from PT today."  
  
"Ok. Not a problem." Olivia came around the desk and took the handles on the back of Steve's chair. As she pushed him down the hall, she said, "I just need to do a check-up to evaluate your progress for the study. Then I'll get you back to your room so you can rest."  
  
In the exam room, she handed him a gown and said, "I'll give you some privacy to change. If you need anything, the call button's right here." She indicated the buzzer that would summon help if he needed it and stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her.  
  
With trembling hands, Steve undid his jeans and shirt. The room was freezing, but that wasn't the reason he was shaking. He really wanted to make up with Olivia. Until he had spoken with her in PT that morning, he hadn't realized how much he missed her. Now he just wanted her back. Suddenly, he laughed. It was ironic how much he felt the loss of her presence when they hadn't even had so much as a single date. When he had the gown on, he buzzed for Olivia. He didn't want to sit there and shiver until she came back in.  
  
"Everything ok?" she asked as she peeked in.  
  
"Yeah, I just wanted you to know I was ready."  
  
"Oh, ok."  
  
Olivia had him do a few basic exercises and demonstrate how he got around with a walker, and then she helped him up onto the examination table. First, she checked out the wounds on his legs and said they were fully healed. She had him push against her hand with each foot to test his strength and told him she was pleased with his progress. Then, when she started to lift the gown, he caught her hands.  
  
"Liv, what are you doing?" He suddenly felt embarrassed about his scars again. He hadn't worried about them since the day she brought him the clothes for therapy. After she'd run from him, he hadn't ever expected her to see him again, much less see as much of him as she was about to.  
  
"I want to see how the other wounds have healed."  
  
"I can tell you that they have all healed fine, Liv."  
  
She pulled her hands loose and gently put them over his. "Steve," she said softly, "I already know what I'm going to see. You don't have to be self- conscious. It's not a big deal."  
  
As her hands rested on his, that feeling of warmth suddenly flooded back. Like the day he'd helped her unpack, and like all the times over the past three months when he'd been afraid, angry, and frustrated, her touch fixed everything. It moved him to think that this small, gentle woman could take everything that was wrong and make it right for him again. She was something special, and he had to get her back. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Tears sprang, unbidden, to his eyes. He blinked them back, afraid that she'd misinterpret them.  
  
"That's what was on your mind, wasn't it?" she asked. "The day you didn't want to tell me about it and you made me leave while you changed."  
  
He nodded. "I look really bad, Liv."  
  
"Steve," she said patiently, "I'm a surgeon. I see wounds and scars and worse all the time."  
  
"I know...it's just...it's hard, you know?"  
  
"It'll be ok, Steve. I need to see."  
  
He let his hands fall away and closed his eyes as she lifted the gown.  
  
"The stoma and the surgical incision have healed beautifully," she commented. "Now I need to check the wounds in your pelvis."  
  
Steve felt her fingers at the waistband of his shorts and he froze. Even his breathing stopped. He felt sure this was going to be a humiliating experience. He'd always been quite modest and now he was going to be fully exposed. He felt the blush rise in his face.  
  
"Ok, roll over so I can check the exit wound."  
  
"That's it?" he said in consternation.  
  
"Yep, why?" She looked him in the eye and asked, "What did you think I was going to do, yank them down to your knees?"  
  
"Well," Steve hesitated to answer, but he couldn't lie, "Yeah."  
  
She lowered the hospital gown and became very serious. "Because of what happened? The kiss?"  
  
"You seemed pretty mad at me."  
  
"Steve, I'm not like that." She took his hand. "First of all, I'm not angry. Even if I was, I'm not a vindictive person. It's just not in me." Caressing his cheek, she continued. "It might be bragging to say so, but I'm also a very good doctor, and I wouldn't embarrass any patient like that." She smiled, and this time it lit up her eyes. "And you're not just any patient. Now roll over and we can get this over with."  
  
Steve rolled over, and she finished her examination. She helped him down from the table and back into his wheelchair.  
  
"I'm sending you home tomorrow morning."  
  
Suddenly the blood was rushing in Steve's ears. He couldn't believe what he had heard. He had given up hope of making it home by Thanksgiving.  
  
"Can you say that again?"  
  
"I'm sending you home tomorrow morning."  
  
He let out a whoop of joy. "You mean it? Tomorrow? I can go home? Really? Oh, God! Thank you, Liv. Thank you."  
  
Olivia laughed out loud to see his joy. It had been quite some time since she'd made a patient so happy. It warmed her heart.  
  
Suddenly he became serious again. "Liv, Dad said we were probably going to talk about...what happened...when..."  
  
She put a hand on his shoulder and told him, "Steve, enjoy today. Be happy you're going home. Anything I have to say can wait another twenty four hours."  
  
"I just don't want you to go away again, Liv." He took a deep breath, surprised at what he was about to say, but knowing it was true. "I think I love you, Olivia, and I have missed you every minute you haven't been with me these past three weeks. I don't know why I upset you so much, and I would do anything to take it back. I hope you can forgive me for what I did, and I hope you can give me, and us, another chance." There, he'd said it, and his heart was racing.  
  
Olivia was dumbfounded; "Steve, I…I can't talk about this here. I am a doctor…you are my patient…I work here, Steve." She listed her reasons like they were a mantra. "This…isn't right. It can't be."  
  
"Then we need to change it, Liv. I care about you too much to let hospital rules get in the way."  
  
"What?! No! Not while I'm your doctor." There was an odd expression on her face, a sort of panic mingled with disgust.  
  
Steve's heart sank; she'd panicked when he'd said he loved her, just like when he'd kissed her. The frightened animal was back. He couldn't let her run away this time.  
  
"Liv, please…"  
  
"No! No way. I have got to draw those lines to do my job. We'll talk about us…later."  
  
He nodded his agreement. If he had to play by her rules, so be it. As long as he was still in the game, he would do as she asked.  
  
"I … I'm turning your case over to another doctor."  
  
"What?!? Why?"  
  
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for several moments. When she opened her eyes, her calm had returned. She no longer had that deer-in-the- headlights look.  
  
"Relax, Steve," she smiled, "I think you'll like him. He's a real sweet kid, and very bright."  
  
Steve smiled back uneasily. It was eerie how quickly she could shift gears. "Jesse."  
  
Olivia nodded. "I, uh," she couldn't hold his gaze, "I'll explain why tomorrow."  
  
"Is it because you have feelings for me?"  
  
She just shrugged, and said, "We'll talk tomorrow. You have a right to know what you're getting into before you go too far to turn back."  
  
With those ominous words, she left the examination room.  
  
A moment later, Jesse came in and asked, "Steve, what did you say to Olivia?"  
  
"I'm not sure, it was kind of a weird conversation. Why, Jess?"  
  
"Because when she came out of here, she was crying."  
  
"Well, she said I had a right to know what I was getting into before I had gone too far to turn back. What do you suppose she could mean by that?"  
  
"I don't know, Steve. Your dad told me you two were getting serious. Maybe she's just scared. At any rate, you'll know when she's ready to tell you. Until then, let's get you back to your room and get your things packed. Tomorrow is a big day for you." 


	13. On the Way Home

(Chapter 13. CG. 11 a.m. November 21.)  
  
Steve sat in his wheelchair waiting for Jesse to bring his discharge paperwork. Jess had been very careful to explain that while he was being discharged from the hospital, he was not being released from a doctor's care. Steve had to laugh. It wasn't like he didn't realize he was still weak and uncoordinated. He knew he was not even close to being ready to go back to work, but he had a month until Christmas and another week after that until New Years. He was determined to make it.  
  
"Wow, what is that look for?" Olivia startled him from his reverie.  
  
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking. In five weeks I want to go back to work."  
  
"Steve..."  
  
"Liv, I know there's a lot I have to overcome, and I know I might not make it by then, but I have to have a definite goal. I need something to work toward, or I feel like I am working hard and getting nowhere."  
  
"Ok," she agreed reluctantly, "I told you before it might be a stretch, but it is possible."  
  
"Just not very probable," Steve added in a tone of resignation.  
  
"All you can do is try and see. Now let's blow this Popsicle stand."  
  
"I thought Jesse was going to take care of the discharge."  
  
"Oh, he was, but he was called into the ER. The paperwork has already been taken care of, there's no need for you to wait around. I'm sure he'll stop by the house to check on you this evening."  
  
"Ok," Steve agreed, "Home, Jane," he said with a laugh and pointed toward the door.  
  
"Jane?"  
  
"Usually when Jesse pushes me out I tell him, 'Home, James,' but that just wouldn't fit for you."  
  
"I see. Well, we have a stop to make first, but you'll be going home soon."  
  
"A stop? What, to sign the discharge papers?"  
  
"Oh, that, too," Olivia said in a teasing voice.  
  
She pushed him down a strangely empty corridor, toward the PT room.  
  
"Uh, this isn't the usual way out. Where's Dad parked?"  
  
"In his usual spot, but like I said, we have a stop to make." She turned the corner. They were definitely heading toward PT.  
  
"I hate it when you're mysterious."  
  
"I know, but you'll get used to it," she said with a laugh. "I tend to grow on people."  
  
"So does athlete's foot, Liv."  
  
"Well," she said, "I see you do have a sense of humor after all. I was beginning to worry that Davis had worked it right out of you. Personally, though, I don't much care for one-liners."  
  
Finally, they arrived at the PT room. She stopped his chair in front of the double doors, and pushed the button that made them open automatically.  
  
"SURPRISE!!!"  
  
As the doors swung open, a wonderful sight greeted Steve. The room was festooned with streamers and balloons. His dad and his friends were there, as was Davis, his partner Cheryl and some other cops, including his captain, several nurses, and a number of fellow patients he had gotten to know in physical therapy.  
  
He turned and looked at Olivia over his shoulder. "Was this your idea?"  
  
"No, actually it was Jesse and Amanda's, but we were all in on it, and I volunteered to deliver the guest of honor."  
  
"I see. Liv, I need you to do something for me."  
  
"Ok, Steve, but you need to join the party. People are beginning to wonder. You haven't even smiled yet. You look unappreciative to say the least."  
  
"This is for Dad, Amanda, and Jesse, too. They haven't seen me walk since that first day. Get my walker. I don't want to be wheeled in there."  
  
As the guests started to murmur their concern, Olivia took the folding walker from the back of the wheelchair where she had fastened it with another of her Velcro contraptions and unfolded it. She set the brakes on the wheelchair, put the walker in front of Steve, and asked for only him to hear, "Do you need help standing?"  
  
"No, I think I've got it." Taking a deep breath, Steve pushed himself up and took hold of the walker. Olivia could see his legs shaking, but she wasn't sure if it was nerves or strain. He soon steadied, and took a step. The next one was more confident, and then he was walking slowly, but surely, to join the party.  
  
Olivia realized that Mark, Jesse, and Amanda were the only people there who hadn't seen Steve in PT. Most of the cops had stopped by at one time or another and left shortly after. She watched Steve's father and friends carefully and tried to gauge their reactions. They were clearly concerned, but whether they had expected him to be stronger or thought he was overdoing it, she couldn't be sure. Steve's progress was slow, but steady, and wisely, no one made a move to help him.  
  
He went straight to his dad and said, "Thanks for staying away. I know it was difficult for you. I couldn't have gotten this far if you'd been here. It was too hard. I could..." Steve's voice broke, but he swallowed and started again. "I could never have let you see what I went through. Now I'm ready to show you what I can do, and to let you help me get better."  
  
Mark didn't say a word. He just opened his arms to his son. Steve set the walker aside and leaned in for the offered hug. Quite unexpectedly, in front of everyone, Steve started to weep softly, then to sob in earnest. "Oh, Dad, it's just been so hard. I just want to go home."  
  
Jesse laid a hand on Steve's arm, and Amanda rubbed his back in big, slow circles.  
  
Father and son clung together for several minutes until Steve calmed down. "It's ok, son," Mark reassured him, "It's all right."  
  
"Steve," Jesse said softly, "you can go right now if you want. I'm sure no one will mind."  
  
"It will be ok, Steve," Amanda agreed. "We can bring some cake and ice cream by the house tonight."  
  
"No, Dad, guys, wait." Steve wiped his tears on the cuff of his shirt. "I want to stay for the party. Really. I'm ok, it's just...I don't know..."  
  
"You felt a little overwhelmed?" Mark supplied.  
  
"Yeah, I guess," Steve said with a weak but genuine smile.  
  
"Ok. Let me know when you're ready, and we'll go home."  
  
"Ok. Thanks, Dad."  
  
Just then, Olivia discretely came up with a chair for Steve. He was pleased to note it was not a wheelchair. She was remarkably sensitive to his moods, and it touched him that she realized exactly what he needed now. He moved a couple steps toward the table with the cake and ice cream, and when she moved the chair behind him, he sat down.  
  
"Thanks, Liv."  
  
"Not a problem."  
  
Steve really enjoyed his party. He was flattered to know so many people had turned out to wish him well. Davis told one story after another that made him look like Superman, and his dad told about how hardheaded he'd been as a kid.  
  
"Yeah," Steve said, "but what Dad won't tell you is how hard he tried to train it out of me. Between all the extra chores and being grounded most of the time, it's hard to believe I ever had time to get into trouble."  
  
"Oh, is that so?" Mark asked. "I seem to remember you making time, even if it required sneaking out your bedroom window while your mother and I were asleep when you were grounded."  
  
"Steve Sloan!" Amanda reprimanded in mock horror. "Sneaking out in the middle of the night! How could you?"  
  
With a sheepish grin, Steve admitted, "That was just a little youthful indiscretion."  
  
"Yeah," Mark agreed. "The big mistake was when I caught him sneaking in at four in the morning."  
  
Steve could feel the blush rising in his face even though he had to laugh along with everyone else. "That's enough, Dad."  
  
"That same hard-headed attitude is what makes him such a good detective," Cheryl put in. "I remember one time…"  
  
Steve tuned out the story. The more they talked the more determined he was to get back to work. He didn't want to let these people down. They all meant too much to him. More importantly, he had to do it for himself. Every day was still a struggle to keep a positive attitude, and his emotional outburst earlier showed him just how tired he was of being an invalid. He needed to get back to a normal life.  
  
Steve realized he needed to get home. Three months was a long time, and suddenly he was so very homesick he felt ill. He caught his Dad's eye and nodded to the door. Mark caught his meaning and started to break up the party. Steve expressed his thanks to everyone who had come to see him off and promised to stop by the precinct soon. Since he would still be coming to physical therapy every day, the nurses and other patients knew they would be seeing him. Soon it was just Mark, Amanda, Jesse, Steve, and Olivia.  
  
"Mark, why don't you and Steve go home," Olivia suggested. "Jesse, Amanda, and I can clean up here, and we'll be out this evening."  
  
"Thanks, Olivia, I think I'll..."  
  
__Dr. Sloan to the ER, please. Dr. Mark Sloan to the ER, please__.  
  
"Oh, rats. Steve, son, I'm so sorry. I told them not to call me unless no one else could deal with it. It must be serious."  
  
"It's ok, Dad, but would it be all right with you if Jess gave me a ride home? I really need to get out of here now."  
  
__Dr. Travis to the ER, please. Dr. Jesse Travis to the ER, please__.  
  
Mark and Jesse looked at each other and at a very miserable Steve. Neither of them knew what to say.  
  
__Drs. Sloan and Travis to the ER, please. Drs. Mark Sloan and Jesse Travis to the ER, STAT__.  
  
"Look, Mark," Olivia suggested, "Give me your house key. I'll take Steve home and hang out with him until you get there. You guys do what you need to and come back here to help Amanda clean up if she needs you. I'll raid your pantry and fix something for all of us for dinner, ok?"  
  
"Sounds good," Mark agreed, taking the house key off its chain and handing it to Olivia. "That ok with you, Steve?"  
  
"Yeah, Dad. Thanks for asking."  
  
Mark and Jesse took off to the ER, as Olivia helped Steve get situated in his wheelchair. "Amanda," he asked, "Why don't you bring the boys along tonight? I'd really like to see them."  
  
"Ok, Steve," she responded, "If you're sure you're up to it."  
  
"Yeah, I am, see you then." Turning to Olivia, he again said, "Home, Jane."  
  
In her best British accent, she said, "Yes, suh. Home, suh."  
  
  
  
  
  
Out in front of the hospital, Steve chatted with an orderly while Olivia went to get her car. It occurred to him that he had no idea what she drove. He asked the orderly if he knew.  
  
"Nope, ain't never seen her drive in."  
  
"I'll bet it's something fancy," Steve said. "She's a classy lady. Probably a Lexus or an Audi, maybe a Beamer. What do you think?"  
  
The orderly shrugged. "I dunno. She seems pretty laid-back for something like that. It's probably a sporty little number. Maybe a Mustang. Definitely a convertible."  
  
Just at that moment, Olivia came around the corner in a pale pink atrocity. Steve looked at the orderly and said, "Well, it is a convertible of sorts."  
  
Olivia hopped out and came around to Steve. She read his face and laughed. "Not what you expected?"  
  
"Well, I have to admit, I was thinking Lexus or Audi. Something expensive. My friend here," Steve indicated the orderly, "expected a sports car. What in the hell is that and where in the world did you get it?"  
  
"Mind your language, dear." As she helped Steve into the car, she explained. "It's U.S. Army surplus. There was this ad in the paper when I was a kid. Genuine U.S. Army surplus Jeeps. Sixty bucks a piece, in bulk. Some assembly required."  
  
"In bulk, assembly required?" Steve rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yep. I was going to be a senior in high school and needed some wheels," she said as she tied her copper curls back. "Nine of us girls got together and talked the automotive mechanics teacher and the principal into offering a weekend course for high school credit. Since there was no money in the budget to pay him for the extra time, we pooled our funds and bought a tenth jeep to assemble for the teacher."  
  
"Assembly required? In bulk?" Steve asked again.  
  
"Yes, Steve," Olivia said slowly. "You had to buy ten, and they came in crates, in pieces. It was a good deal for us. For less than seventy bucks each, we learned a lot about cars, got our wheels, and got high school credit to boot. The guys thought we were pretty cool, too, because we understood them when they started talking clutches and carburetors."  
  
"It's pink, Liv."  
  
She laughed again. "I know, isn't it great?"  
  
"It's not just pink, though. It's puffy pink clouds." Steve was still appalled. "It says Cloud Nine, Liv."  
  
"Well, we were all proud of ourselves. I'll have you know every one of them cranked up and ran like a dream the first time we tried the key in the ignition."  
  
"Is that, so?" Steve asked with a smirk.  
  
"Yeah. It was quite an accomplishment for a bunch of teenage girls, so we formed a society to commemorate it. Since there were nine of us, we called ourselves Cloud Nine. The green was a nasty color, so we repainted all of them in different colors in my daddy's tool shed."  
  
"I'll bet he was thrilled with that."  
  
She cut him a look that could have withered an artificial plant, but didn't say anything in response. "Mine is pink," she continued, "Louise's was green, Sophie and Sylvie chose blue and purple, Chris picked red, Becky's was yellow, Meghan's was orange, Alice tried to get teal but ended up with a really pretty turquoise, and Sue painted hers in the school colors, maroon and white. We had them ready for the parade the day the football team came home with the state championship. We got to drive the football players. We even got a two page spread in the yearbook."  
  
She popped a CD in the stereo and cranked it up. It was blasting "Joy to the World."  
  
"Classic rock, huh?"  
  
"Bet your life," Olivia said as she pulled away from the curb.  
  
"I know the CD player wasn't original equipment." Steve had to admit, the jeep may have been 20 years old, but it ran like a new luxury automobile.  
  
"Nope," Olivia replied, "this is the fourth or fifth system I've installed in this thing. Every one of them cost me more than the car. Kind of crazy what we'll spend our money on isn't it? Each of us also installed a CB, and I have modified this thing to meet California emissions standards."  
  
"Well, if music is important to you, why not? But why the CB? Just for the heck of it?"  
  
"Oh, Steve, no. On Friday nights, we used to take turns cruising the county roads. When we spotted a deputy near the designated party spot for that weekend, we'd radio the others to clear out."  
  
"Olivia! You've got to be kidding me. Uh, just out of curiosity, do you have another car?"  
  
"What's the matter? Embarrassed to be seen in this one."  
  
"No, it's not that. It just doesn't seem to fit with your personality."  
  
"You think you know me so well, don't you?"  
  
"Not yet," Steve lowered his voice, "but I'd like to." He was gratified to see Olivia blush. It turned her freckles darker.  
  
"For your information, I also own a new Mercedes and a 1976 Corvette Stingray T-top coupe. It's metallic dark green with a brown interior. Matches my eyes."  
  
Steve gave a low whistle. "Nice car," he said, admiring her red curls dancing in the wind as she accelerated onto the PCH.  
  
"Oh, it's a gem, all right," she agreed. "Cherry condition. Manufactured in St. Louis. Has all the original equipment. Cast aluminum wheels, 350ci engine, 210 horsepower, and a 4-speed manual transmission. It has all the bells and whistles. There are less than 1,400 in the world with the same paint and equipment. I tinkered with the engine a little. It now goes zero to sixty in five seconds flat. It's my baby."  
  
"I'd sure like to ride in it once."  
  
Olivia grinned, "Tell you what. When you're released to go back to work, you can drive it for yourself."  
  
"Not that I need any more incentive to get better, but I will be looking forward to it. Uh, Liv?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Why on earth do you need three cars?"  
  
"Well, I don't really need them, but I like to tinker. I use this for everyday travel, to and from work, the market, and such. I take the Mercedes when it rains and when I am going somewhere I feel I really need to look professional, and the 'Vette, well, sometimes I like to just pick a direction and drive until I'm tired."  
  
Steve sighed. It felt good to be out in the air again. "I know what you mean. Sometimes just driving will clear my head, and when I come back, everything seems so much better."  
  
"Yeah," Olivia agreed. "That's how I wound up moving out here."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"When I was still back in Baltimore, I had a really rough week, so I took a few days off, headed to Chicago to see some friends, and hopped on route 66. When I got here, I liked it, and started making plans to move."  
  
Steve threw his head back, clapped his hands, and laughed out loud. "You expect me," he gasped between fits of laughter, "to believe that you took off work and drove three thousand miles because you had a bad week?"  
  
She looked at him with a peculiar smile, "It was a really bad week. I needed to see the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean."  
  
Steve suddenly stopped laughing. "You're serious!"  
  
"As a heart attack."  
  
Olivia could see the wheels turning in Steve's head.  
  
"How can you just take off work like that?"  
  
"I just call in and say I won't be there for a few days."  
  
"I see. But don't your employers...I mean how does your boss react when..." Steve groaned in frustration.  
  
Olivia laughed, and said, "I think you're looking for a delicate way to ask an indelicate question. You're dying of curiosity but don't want to appear nosey. Just spit it out, Steve. I promise I won't take offense."  
  
Steve pointed a finger at her and said, "Remember you said that, and remember that you were teasing me for thinking I knew you too well."  
  
Olivia nodded, "Ok." She suspected she knew what he was going to ask.  
  
"How can you just take off work and travel across the country on a whim? I would think it would be hard to hold a job that way. And how do you manage to maintain and insure those three cars and make house payments when you just take a few days off whenever you feel like it? I can imagine what the hospital pays you, and even if you were married, I think it would be tough to cover all those payments."  
  
She was right. He wanted to know if money was an issue. He couldn't understand how she could have all that she did. If he only knew what it had cost her. She decided to tell him at least part of the truth. "I don't take off very often, Steve, and I make sure to do my job well enough so that my boss doesn't mind letting me go for a few days when I need to clear my head. Also, I don't make payments, darling. I pay cash."  
  
"Yeah, right. For a house in Brentwood."  
  
She gave him that odd smile again that said she wasn't kidding.  
  
"You're serious again," he said in amazement.  
  
"Yep, and I'm filthy rich, too, but that's another story all together," she said with disgust. "I hope that doesn't change your opinion of me."  
  
When Steve said nothing, she continued, "I grew up poor, but several years ago I came into an unexpected windfall. Where the money came from is not important beyond the fact that it was perfectly legal. I have more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes, and my accountant and broker keep making it grow. I indulge my interests and give a good deal to charity, and beyond that, I don't know what to do with the rest so I let them handle it."  
  
"Then why do you work for a living?"  
  
Olivia stared down the highway for a moment. "Lots of reasons, I guess," she said as she accelerated to pass a truck that was puttering along at forty-five.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Well, when I was a kid, I knew we were poor," she explained. "I used to hate that my folks had to work so hard to make ends meet. Mom didn't buy much at the grocery store. She might have spent thirty bucks a week on the eight of us. All our veggies came from the garden. Fruit came from the orchard, milk from the cows, eggs from the henhouse, and meat from the cows, the pigs, and the woods."  
  
"Sounds like Little House on the Prairie," Steve joked.  
  
Olivia got quiet for a moment, then asked, "Have you heard the expression 'grinding poverty?'"  
  
"Well, yeah," Steve said, uncertain where she was going.  
  
"I can remember one winter when I was very young, and there had been a drought that summer. The cows hadn't milked well all summer, and then a hailstorm destroyed what little corn crop my daddy had managed to produce. We had to buy hay and silage to feed the cows. That winter, there were a lot of nights my parents wouldn't eat supper so there would be enough for us kids."  
  
"Oh, God, Liv. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize what you meant when you said you were poor."  
  
Olivia nodded and said kindly, "Most people don't, and you don't need to feel sorry. It's impossible for the average person to comprehend that in modern America, there are families that still live like that. My brother Andy had rickets, for Heaven's sake, and every winter until I was five, at least one of us came down with scurvy. No body gets those diseases in this country, for crying out loud."  
  
They drove on in silence for several minutes, and Steve began to worry that he had offended her to the point where she wouldn't speak to him.  
  
Finally, she began again. "When I started school, social services tried to take Andy, Beth, and me away. They said malnutrition was stunting my growth. That's when the church started giving us food baskets. It was embarrassing, but Mama and Daddy accepted the charity."  
  
"God, Liv. I can't imagine."  
  
She shrugged. "Most people can't. The two oldest boys were the only ones who always got new clothes for school. My sister and I would each get a dress and shoes, but our everyday clothes were hand-me-downs from the boys. I used to fantasize about being so rich that my family would never have to work again, but Daddy always told me that an honest day's work would make him prouder of me than anything I could ever buy."  
  
"So, you work to please your dad, huh? I'll bet he's proud of you."  
  
She gave him an odd look. "Well, I guess. I also remember one of my teachers having a poster that said, 'Be not simply good, be good for something.' It took me a while to figure that one out, but I eventually found out I felt better about life and myself when I was doing something worthwhile."  
  
"Liv?"  
  
"Yeah, Steve?"  
  
"You remember how a few weeks ago I called you amazing?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, my opinion of you hasn't changed a bit."  
  
She blushed again. "Steve, you still barely know me."  
  
"I know enough," he said, "to know that I want to know more."  
  
As Olivia pulled into Steve's driveway, she looked at the watch that was never really there and said, "Well, it will be hours until anyone arrives for dinner. We have plenty of time to talk." 


	14. Home Sweet Home

(Chapter 14. Malibu. 1 p.m. November 21.)  
  
As Olivia helped Steve from the jeep to his wheelchair, he asked her, "Why do you always look at your wrist? You don't wear a watch."  
  
She pushed him to the house and up the ramp Mark had ordered installed. "Force of habit," she explained. "I guess I misplaced it when I was moving in. It had a great deal of sentimental value, so I've found it hard to replace."  
  
"I'm sorry you lost it," Steve sympathized. "Was it a gift from someone special?"  
  
"Family heirloom," she told him.  
  
"Oh. I know it hurts to be without that. There are things I got from my parents that I couldn't bear to part with."  
  
Olivia laughed and said, "Why, Steve, you're sentimental."  
  
He laughed with her and agreed; "I guess so, about some things."  
  
She opened the door and pushed the wheelchair just to the threshold. "Wheels or the walker, Steve?"  
  
He tipped his head back and looked at her upside down. "How do you do that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's like you read my mind sometimes. I was just thinking how badly I wanted to walk into the house, not ride in. Like it would be some kind of triumph for me. How did you know to stop and ask?"  
  
Olivia shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know, Steve. I guess I just think about how I would feel." Then she gave him a quick kiss on his forehead and said, "I'm glad I did, though. If it were important to you, I wouldn't want to deprive you of the moment."  
  
Steve was so dumbfounded by the kiss that he didn't realize she was waiting for him to speak again.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"Mmmm?"  
  
"You want the walker?"  
  
"Oh...Yeah, but stick close. I'm bushed and I don't know how far I'll get on my own."  
  
"Ok." She put the walker in front of him and locked the brakes on the wheelchair.  
  
"Help me up this time?"  
  
She gripped his arm and put an arm around his shoulders. He held on to her arm with one hand and pushed up with the other. She held on to him until he had a grip on the walker and steadied himself.  
  
"Here goes nothing," he gave a strained, determined smile, and crossed the threshold to his home for the first time in over three months.  
  
Olivia followed him closely, and he made good progress. He was headed toward the kitchen because she had said she would make dinner for everyone. Suddenly his knees started to shake and he knew he was in trouble. "Liv?!"  
  
She was right there, with the wheelchair. He felt her hand on his back as she reached to steady him, and with her help, he sank gratefully into the chair.  
  
"Thanks, Liv."  
  
"Not a problem. Where to?"  
  
"I was figuring the kitchen. Maybe I could help you with dinner."  
  
"You cook?" she asked in surprise.  
  
"Well, some, but not as much as my dad. Why so surprised?"  
  
"I just am. I don't know why."  
  
Steve laughed at her. "Remember, Jesse and I run a restaurant together. You keep saying I barely know you. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do either."  
  
"I can't argue with that," she agreed. "Lets go see what we're having for dinner, then maybe we can talk for a while." She wheeled Steve to the kitchen, but found it tight to maneuver the wheel chair. She pushed him to the table instead and snooped around a bit for ingredients for the evening's dinner.  
  
"What'll it be, handsome?" she called. "It looks like I can go steaks, Chinese, Mexican, Italian, or country cookin' comfort food, with what's in the cupboards and the fridge."  
  
The word 'handsome' caused something to tighten in Steve's chest as he remembered his horrible scars again. He hoped she didn't hear it in his voice as he called back, "If Italian means spaghetti, it sounds good to me."  
  
She came over to the table and sat down. "Spaghetti is a good choice. It'll make quite a feast with no leftovers, and you won't still be feeling stuffed tomorrow when you sit down to that turkey."  
  
"Do we have sauce and everything?"  
  
"Yep. Everything we need." She narrowed her eyes and asked, "Are you ok?"  
  
Steve sighed. He stared at the ceiling for several seconds and finally told her, "I won't lie to you, Olivia. Something is bothering me, but I don't want to talk about it. It's nothing you did, and there's nothing you can do about it. I want you to leave it alone, ok?"  
  
She reached across the table and patted his hand, "Ok." Then she looked him in the eye and said, "For now."  
  
In an effort to lighten the mood, Steve changed the subject. "So, I'm dating a nouveau riche, beautiful surgeon who likes to tinker with cars, design fashions for handicapped people, and cook, is that about the size of it?"  
  
Olivia flashed him a purely evil grin and said, "Gee, Steve, I don't know. Who is she?"  
  
Steve laughed back at her and said, "You, of course."  
  
"I thought you said she was beautiful," she said sarcastically. "Besides, who said we're dating? I don't recall having a single date with you. In fact, as I recall, you went to great lengths to get out of our one and only date."  
  
Steve groaned in mock agony. "You are not going to make this easy, are you?"  
  
"Never in a million years," Olivia said with a giggle.  
  
Steve sighed. "I hate it when women play hard-to-get."  
  
"Well, Steve, if it was easy, someone else would have already had it."  
  
Steve took hold of the hand that she had left resting on his. He closed his other hand around it, too, and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. Olivia wasn't clowning any more. Her mischievous grin had been replaced with a gentle smile. Finally, Steve looked into her eyes and spoke from the heart.  
  
"I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Olivia Regis, and, I have told you before, I know enough about you to know that I want to know more. I don't want to be just friends, and I don't want to always be playing word games with you. Ordinarily I wouldn't be so forward, but you're forcing me." He looked down at her small hand enclosed in his two large ones, and noticed for the first time that it was freckled like the rest of her. For some reason the new knowledge made him smile.  
  
He cleared his throat and continued. "Every time I'm with you, I feel warm and comfortable. When something is wrong, you make it right just by being there. Your touch, your scent, your voice, they never fail to set my world back on course. I want a relationship with you, I want it to be mutually exclusive, and I want it to eventually get serious. I pushed you once before, and you ran from me. I won't make that mistake again, but I won't settle for being just friends either."  
  
He paused for a moment, kissed her hand again, and let it go. He looked at the ceiling again, took a deep breath, swallowed, and looked back into her eyes. Olivia's smile was gone, and Steve had the feeling he was playing a very high-stakes game of poker. He decided to bet it all. "If you can't give me what I ask, we have to stay away from each other. My feelings for you are too strong to have a casual relationship. When I look at you, I see my future. If you don't want to be a part of that, go now. I'll be ok until my dad gets here."  
  
Olivia never said a word. She stood up, walked past Steve, through the house and out the front door.  
  
Steve buried his head in his arms and cried.  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia barely made it to her jeep before her quickly weakening knees gave out on her altogether. As she collapsed in the driver's seat, she began rooting around for napkins, paper towels, or anything she could use to dry her eyes and blow her nose. Opening the glove compartment, she found a small travel pack of tissues. She slapped a hand to her forehead and said, "Duh!" The one mild expletive brought on a profound tirade of confused self-talk.  
  
"Jeeze, Liv!" she said, tearing at her hair. "His dad told you he was serious. Said he wears his heart on his sleeve. No flippin' kidding! What in Heaven's name were you expecting? You're a fool, Olivia. A stupid, thoughtless fool! You never should have messed around with him. You were being totally unfair. He says he sees his future in you. It's probably somewhere in the psych ward. What on God's good green earth are you going to do now?"  
  
"I'm going to get the heck out of here," she answered herself in a matter- of-fact tone, and started patting her pockets, looking for her keys. "That's it. I'm just going away. I'll let the lawyer handle getting me out of the contract, and I'll go off to Cedars Sinai or Washington State or Chicago. Maybe Miami. Geriatric orthopedics has always been an interest of mine. I can take care of a bunch of osteoporotic little old ladies. Where the *hell* are my keys?"  
  
Finally, she located the keys. "Dallas is nice, too," she muttered as she jammed the key in the ignition and turned it.  
  
For the first time twenty years, the only time since she had assembled it, the jeep's engine failed to turn over.  
  
"DAMMIT!" she screamed, climbing out of the jeep.  
  
She continued to holler, "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" as she kicked the jeep. The third kick landed wrong and she hurt her foot. She grabbed her foot, certain that it was broken, and managed to hop twice, still cursing, before she lost her balance and landed gracelessly in a heap in the driveway.  
  
She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, hid her face, and sat there rocking and sobbing for several minutes until she calmed down and a new train of thought finally took hold.  
  
"He's too good for you, Liv. You're a total nut job. He doesn't deserve a lunatic. He should have a nice, stable, normal, sane girl. You're crazy Olivia, and now you've hurt him. You don't deserve him, you worthless nut. You should never have gotten involved with him. You should never get involved again. You always mess it up. No man deserves someone as screwed up as you." She fell on to her side and started to sob even harder than before.  
  
Finally, the sobbing subsided. Then a ray of sunlight broke through the storm clouds in her heart and a smile spread across her red, tearstained face. "That's not true," she thought. "You're not nuts. You've had some hard times, yeah, and sometimes the past still drags you down. But you're not crazy."  
  
She stood up carefully and tested her foot. "Not broken, but it's going to be sore for a while." She smiled. "He's a good man, and he's strong. He's so strong. He's been through so much; he's a survivor, a fighter. Look at the way you met and what happened the next morning. After all that, he still hung in there. He's tough enough to handle you and all your baggage, and he wants to make you happy."  
  
She pulled the keys out of the ignition and hobbled toward the house. "You deserve to be happy, Olivia. Just the other day you decided this was going to be a good beginning with a happy ending. Let him be part of the story."  
  
She limped up onto the porch. "It's easy for you to be sad and lonely because that's all you've known for years. Don't take the easy way out this time. Fight for your happiness. Tell him the truth, and if he can't handle it, help him."  
  
She paused at the door, uncertain for a moment. "For pity's sake, Olivia, you love him, and he loves you. Find your backbone, woman, this is worth fighting for. He's already on your side. Don't sabotage yourself."  
  
Doubt sneaked in again, "Can you undo the damage you've already done? He's going to wonder why you haven't told him the truth already. What if your walking out just now caused him to change his mind?"  
  
She tried the door. It was locked. She found Mark's house key still on her key chain and slipped it into the lock. She took a steadying breath. "There is nothing broken that can't be fixed," she told herself. "This time love will be enough."  
  
She turned the key and heard the lock click open. She opened the door and slipped inside. Favoring her injured foot, she slowly made her way to the dining room table where she had left Steve. As she drew closer, she heard his muffled sobs and paused a moment, wondering if she should go to him. It was apparent that he didn't know she was there. He was talking to himself. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she wasn't sure how to break in.  
  
"...and I really thought she was the one. She's already seen the job at it's worst. She knew what it was like. She saw me in my worst moments, and she stayed right there with me through it all. Why did she have to leave now?"  
  
Olivia seized the opportunity. She rushed to his side and put an arm around his shoulders. "I was scared for a bit," she said. "I had to go find my courage." She smiled, and said, "The jeep made me look for it by refusing to start. That's some kind of timing, huh? It's the first time in twenty years. I guess I'm staying around for a while, if you'll have me."  
  
Steve turned to her, buried his face in the curve of her neck and sobbed, "Yes, oh, my God, yes."  
  
They clung together, weeping for long minutes until the storm blew over. Then Olivia pulled away gently and said, "There's a lot you need to know. I won't hold you to what you said about the future until you've heard everything about the past. There isn't time to tell you the whole story now, and we won't get a chance to talk privately until after the holiday; but for now, I'm all yours for as long as we can be happy together. If you change your mind later, we'll deal with it then, ok?"  
  
Steve smiled and nodded. "Nothing you could possibly tell me would change my mind or my heart."  
  
Olivia smiled back sadly and said, "I hope you're right." 


	15. A Glimpse of the Past

(Chapter 15. Malibu. November 21. 2 p.m.)  
  
Olivia had wheeled Steve into the living room. She sat on the couch facing him and said, "I guess I should start by telling you why that one little kiss freaked me out so much a few weeks ago. It's not the beginning of my story, but it explains a lot."  
  
"I was wondering about that. You don't seem the type to scare easy. I thought you were angry with me."  
  
"Oh, Steve, I was terrified beyond belief." Looking off at nothing in particular, in a low, unwavering voice she began her story.  
  
"This is about the cop that hurt me back home. I was only twenty-three. I'd graduated med-school, spent a year in Europe, and was starting my first real job at the county hospital. I was dating a sheriff's deputy named Keith Stephens. His buddy, Ted Baer, was a state trooper, and the three of us had been friends for as long as I could remember. They were both a little older than me, and they had helped me through some really rough times when my family couldn't be there for me."  
  
"Where was your family?" Steve asked. "When you talk about them, it always seems like you're so close. Why couldn't they be there?"  
  
"That's another story altogether, Steve. Please just let me get through this one."  
  
Steve wheeled himself over to the couch, and with some effort, moved on to the couch and settled beside Olivia. He put an arm around her shoulder and said, "I'm listening."  
  
She settled comfortably into his arm and continued. "Anyway, Ted, Keith and I were like the three Musketeers, inseparable, incorrigible, and irreverent. People started calling us TKO--Technical Knock Out. We were always into something, and always getting away with it. We never did anything really bad, mind you, just pranks."  
  
She giggled a bit. "One time, we shorted out the entire science wing of the high school with three paperclips. And once, when they were renovating the school, we snuck in over the weekend and put drywall over the door to the drama teacher's room. After a new coat of paint, you never would have known it was there. Then we stood around and watched as he went down the hall to his classroom, got out his keys, and turned to find the door wasn't there any more. He went ballistic. It was too funny."  
  
Steve laughed, "I never would have pegged you for a hellion, Liv."  
  
Olivia's smile faded. "I was all that and a bag of chips, too, at one time. I almost ended up in a home for incorrigible girls."  
  
She adjusted her position on the couch so that she could look at Steve again. He was surprised to see the tears streaming down her face. He thought she'd been sharing pleasant memories. Apparently, there was a lot she was holding back.  
  
"Like I was saying, for years we just hung out together. I was sixteen years old when I graduated high school. I was a brainiac and skipped a couple grades. I went straight into the PROG program at Penn State. I still don't know what PROG means, but it's a six-year combined pre- med/medical program. Keith and Teddy went to PSU, too, in the Administration of Justice program. We even rented an apartment together for a year. It was so much fun."  
  
Steve was getting impatient. Olivia was usually so direct; he knew this had to be hard for her. He bit his tongue and waited patiently for her to get the story out.  
  
"In my third year, I went off to Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia. Keith and Ted came to the Philadelphia Police Academy. They had transferred into the Saint Joseph's College program to be near me. We helped each other study for exams, they kept me out of trouble, and I nursed them through hangovers, colds, the flu, and a bout of chicken pox. When I had night classes, they'd drive me there and take me home. I was probably the safest woman in the city of Philadelphia."  
  
"Sounds like they took good care of you."  
  
Olivia smiled through her tears, "Yeah. They did. Well, one day, I stopped by their place, and Keith was out. I don't recall why I was there, and I don't know where Keith was. Ted made a pass at me. We were just talking and all of a sudden his mouth was all over me and he was fondling me. It was weird, not just because we had always been such good friends, but because it seemed almost desperate." Olivia shivered and Steve held her closer.  
  
"That's why my kiss upset you, isn't it?"  
  
"Well, yeah," she agreed, "but that's only the beginning. You know me, fix it with a joke. I made a crack about kissing my brother, and we laughed it off. Keith came home, and we ordered pizza. I figured Ted and I had agreed to forget the incident."  
  
"But he didn't, did he?"  
  
Olivia reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table.  
  
"Well, nothing more was ever said about it. The guys finished their degrees and their training and went back home. Keith joined the sheriff's department, and Teddy joined the State Police. The barracks was right in town, so he and Keith roomed together again. Meanwhile, I finished med- school, spent a year in Europe, and came back home to work at the county hospital. TKO was back in town. By this time, we had been best buds for about nine years."  
  
"Then something went wrong, didn't it?"  
  
Olivia nodded. "At first, something went really, really right. Then everything turned sideways."  
  
Steve knew she was trying to hide from something painful. He prodded gently. "Liv, whatever it is you can tell me. I think you're making it harder on yourself by dragging it out."  
  
She nodded again. "In May, just before my birthday, Keith stopped by the hospital for a break because his patrol route brought him right by my building. He invited me to dinner, to celebrate. It was the first time I could ever remember making plans that didn't include Ted. I felt a little guilty about it, but only a little. Everything was different after that. Keith and I became a serious item very quickly. We'd known each other for so long, it just felt natural. Within about two months, we started looking at houses, shopping for rings, and making plans. Ted became more and more distant. He wouldn't come along when we invited him. Even when we set him up for a double date, he wanted nothing to do with us.  
  
"Keith and I tried to cut him some slack. We figured he was just really hurt. We'd changed the dynamics of our relationship, and he was having trouble adjusting. Then he started getting weird. He'd show up at my office in the hospital and just sit in my waiting room. He'd erase messages I'd left for Keith, and if he answered the phone when I called, he'd get really lewd and vulgar. Nights when Keith worked and he had off, Ted would call my place and describe sexual acts that this naive little country girl had never imagined. Keith finally asked him to move out, and he really raised a ruckus about that."  
  
There was a tremor in Olivia's voice. Steve gave her a gentle hug and said, "I'm still here, Liv. If you need to take a break, I'll wait. We can come back to this another time."  
  
She shook her head and said, "No, I have to get it out now."  
  
She stood up and started pacing. "I changed my phone number and kept it unlisted, but being a cop, I'm sure you know how easy that information is to get. If anything, the calls got worse. I'd see him following me home from the hospital at night. Once he tried to pull me over, but I got on the CB with him, asking what he wanted, making it public so he couldn't do anything bad. He said he didn't recognize me and thought my jeep might have been stolen, and he told me to just go on my way. I put a trace on my phone, hired a P.I. to follow him while he was following me, and got a restraining order. For about five months, Ted dropped off the face of the earth.  
  
"Keith and I put our official engagement announcement in the paper just before Thanksgiving. We were going to get married at the end of January. Out of nowhere, Ted called Keith. He was profoundly apologetic. He wanted to make things right. Deer season started right after Thanksgiving, and Ted had the keys to a friend's hunting cabin for the duration. The friend was out of town on business. Ted invited us to join him. We'd bring some board games, a deck of cards, soda, beer, chips, the whole bit. We'd hang out and try to patch things up, and maybe then we would even do a little hunting."  
  
Olivia stopped pacing, ran her hands through her copper curls, folded her arms, looked at Steve and said, "I told Keith to accept the invitation. I don't know what planet I was on. I just wanted my boys back, y'know?"  
  
Steve nodded. "It's common for people to try to salvage relationships like that, but it seldom works."  
  
Olivia gave a bitter laugh. "Believe me, I know it. Keith tried to warn me, but I insisted. I even told him that if he didn't try to fix things I would call the wedding off. It was the worst mistake of my life."  
  
Olivia sat cross-legged on the living room floor facing Steve with the box of tissues in her lap. "The week started really well. It was awkward for a few hours, but then it was just like old times. By Tuesday night, Keith was asking me what I thought of making Ted the best man. I said it was a great idea. Then Wednesday came and everything went bad.  
  
"Wednesday dawned clear and crisp. There was a light coating of new snow and almost no wind. It was perfect for tracking deer. The guys were up early and went for a run. They'd run cross-country together in high school, and it was just the most natural thing in the world for them to go for a run together. While they were out, I built up the fire and started breakfast. I made sausage, pancakes, eggs, home fries, the works."  
  
Steve let an involuntary sigh escape.  
  
Olivia looked at him and said, "I know this is way too much information, but it's still so fresh in my memory. I'm sorry, Steve. If I don't let it out the way it comes back to me, I'll never be able to do this."  
  
"It's ok, Liv," he assured her. "Tell it in your own time and in your own way. I have nothing more important to do right now than listen."  
  
Olivia smiled. "Thanks, Steve. That means a lot more than you know."  
  
She moved up on the couch beside him again, drew her knees against her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. "The guys had seen some tracks during their run, and we decided over breakfast to see if one of us could get a big buck."  
  
Steve asked Olivia, "So you hunt?"  
  
"Yeah, but I haven't gone in a long time. I still target shoot, though."  
  
"I know. The day you moved in you told me you belonged to a gun club. That's how you knew my weapon was a 9mm that morning."  
  
She smiled, but a sour look crossed her face, "Yep."  
  
She ran her fingers through her hair, making the curls go wild. "After breakfast, we went out into the woods. Ted took me up over the hill behind the cabin to a deer stand where he said he'd had luck before. It looked like a good spot. You could see where a buck had broken down saplings spreading his scent and where the herd had rooted through the snow looking for dry grass to eat.  
  
"We had decided that we would set up in a triangle, so if we couldn't get a clear shot, any two of us could drive the game to the other one. Ted was going to take Keith to a thicket at the edge of a nearby meadow, and then he was going to go to a spring not far from either of us. I settled in and waited for my chance as the guys headed back over the hill.  
  
"I got my shot less than five minutes after Ted and Keith left. It was the biggest buck I had ever seen. I couldn't believe the guys hadn't seen it. Just as I was about to fire, I heard Keith shout, 'What the hell?' The buck bounded off, and I got mad. I headed over the hill to tell him off."  
  
Olivia started rocking on the couch. Her face was buried in her knees, and her hands were clenched in her hair. Steve gently put a hand on her back intending to comfort her, but she sprang from the couch like a cat. "No! Not yet, Steve." She paced for several moments, and then turned to face him. Her hands were balled into small fists, knuckles white. For a moment, he was afraid she was going to hit him.  
  
Trembling, with tears streaming down her face and dripping from her chin, she continued. "I cleared the trees in time to see Ted fire on Keith. They were less than fifteen feet apart. Keith's rifle was on the ground between them. Keith was running away, and Ted hit him in the back of the leg. The bullet went through, but it left a huge exit wound. I could see blood spurting from where I was, and I knew Ted had hit the femoral artery.  
  
"I was rooted to the spot. I watched Ted advance as Keith tried to crawl away. Then I went on autopilot. I pulled up and drew a bead on Ted. I was going for a headshot. I knew I hit him because he dropped like a sack of stones, but not before he fired again. I ran to Keith first. He was white as a corpse already. The second bullet had entered his knee. He was bleeding to death. I had no choice. Keith begged me not to, but I had to use tourniquets on his legs. I knew if he lived, he would probably lose both legs.  
  
"From the waist down, I stripped him to his long-johns, dressed the wounds as best I could with strips torn from my flannel shirt, packed his legs in snow and zipped my coat around his legs. I was hoping the cold would slow blood loss and reduce tissue degradation. If he lived long enough to make it to the hospital, maybe we could save his legs."  
  
Olivia had her arms wrapped around herself. She looked completely wrung out, and she didn't even try to wipe the tears away. Steve thought to comfort her again. "My God, Liv..."  
  
She would have none of it. "Let me finish!" she wailed. "Please."  
  
Steve nodded and waited patiently for her to go on.  
  
"I don't remember what happened next. I guess I blocked it out. Even under hypnosis, I refuse to remember it. The next thing I recall, I was laying in the bloody snow with my jeans undone. Keith was unconscious beside me, and Ted was out cold nearby. I did up my jeans, tied Ted's hands as tight as I could with his drag line, fashioned a harness from Keith's and my drag lines, put Keith on a ground cloth I carried with me, and when Ted came to, I hitched him to the ground cloth and made him drag Keith out of the woods at gunpoint.  
  
"Ted drove an extended cab pickup with a cap. I made him load Keith into the bed, and I sat in the back of the cab with a gun on Ted while he drove us to the nearest phone. I called the county hospital and they sent a medivac chopper. Then I called the cops."  
  
Olivia wasn't crying now. She was so calm it gave Steve a chill. He knew she was probably blocking out feelings that were too painful to experience, but it was still eerie to see her so calm as she finished the horrible story.  
  
"Keith lived, but he lost both legs. Ted had a concussion from the gunshot, a broken collarbone, cracked ribs, a broken wrist, a dislocated thumb, multiple contusions, abrasions, and lacerations, several bites, and other injuries that I had clearly inflicted in fending him off. I must have gone completely nuts on him, but I don't recall. I remember nothing of the assault on me, but an examination revealed that I had not been raped. There were bruises and scratches where Ted had tried to get my underwear off. He'd grabbed my wrist so hard he left a hand-shaped bruise and fractured two bones. I had a huge hand print bruise on my face, three loose teeth, lacerations on the inside of my cheek, and a concussion.  
  
"They found a journal Ted had kept. It was a clear document of a man losing his mind. He was obsessed with me. He had planned to torture and kill Keith, rape and kill me, and then commit suicide. While he was recovering from his injuries in the lock-up ward, he got out and came after me again. They stopped him at the door to my office. He had a scalpel and planned to slit my throat. He said later if he had known where to find Keith, he would have killed him before coming after me again.  
  
"There was a trial. Ted was convicted of attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, assault on and attempted murder of a police officer, attempted rape, aggravated assault, and God alone knows what else. He was also diagnosed with schizophrenia. He'll probably spend the rest of his life in a high security mental hospital or a facility for the criminally insane."  
  
Olivia was crying again. She stood before Steve, swaying as if exhausted. "Keith…" her voice broke. She took a deep breath and started again. "Keith blamed me for everything, and rightly so. He called off the wedding, and I moved to Pittsburgh. I ran away, Steve, and I've been running ever since. When Keith's brother asked to visit me in Pittsburgh, I told him no and moved to New York a month later, leaving no forwarding address."  
  
She began pacing as she described the events that had kept her on the run for the past twelve years.  
  
"Ted's sister found me there. We used to be friends, and she wanted to…put it behind us. She asked me to come home, but I refused. Before I could pack and run, Ted broke out of prison and tracked me down. The cops found him in the lobby of my building, bleeding. He'd followed me into the elevator. I didn't know he was loose, but I always carried my .38 when I was out at night in the city. I wanted to kill him so bad, Steve, but I couldn't. I could only stop him."  
  
She stopped to look at him again.  
  
"That's a good thing, Liv. Killing him would have been easy for most people after what he did to you and Keith, but it was hard for you because it's such a terrible thing to do and you're such a good person."  
  
"Yeah, whatever. Well, the gun was registered and I was licensed to carry, and I hadn't used deadly force, so I didn't have any trouble with the police. I moved to Chicago for a few months, but they don't issue carry permits, and I was too scared of Ted to be without my .38 for long. I made a few friends there, and lost one. He was gunned down waiting for the El. That's when I moved to Baltimore. That bad week I told you about, when I took route 66 all the way to Malibu?"  
  
Steve nodded to indicate that he recalled their earlier conversation.  
  
"It was because Keith's mom got my address in Baltimore and invited me to their Labor Day cookout. She was trying to mend fences. Her family had always been so good to me. They're good people, Steve. I never wrote back, I just packed up and moved 3,000 miles away. I haven't been home in twelve years. Sometimes I get so homesick, but I'm afraid to go back."  
  
She stood before him for a long moment, trembling, weeping, and looking utterly pathetic. Steve didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if she was done.  
  
Finally, she spoke again. "When you tried to force that kiss on me, it was so much like that pass Ted made when we were still in college. That's when everything started, and I didn't see it at the time. I just panicked. I was ready to pack up and move away again, but...."  
  
She started to sob. After she regained composure, she continued. "Steve, you're the first person I've been able to care about since all this happened. And your dad, Jesse, and Amanda, they make me feel like I have a family again. I feel like I belong somewhere again." Her words came out in sobbing hiccups. "I hope...you can forgive me...for not...telling you...sooner. I was afraid of losing you."  
  
She stood there sniffling for the longest time. Steve couldn't figure out what she needed from him, but he knew that whatever it was, he was willing to give it to her. Finally, he decided to ask, "Do you want me to hold you now?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Well," he said, opening his arms, "Come here."  
  
She stepped into his arms and he pulled her into his lap like a child. She curled up against him sobbing. Her back rested against the arm of the couch and her head on his shoulder. He held her close and stroked her hair murmuring sweet, nonsensical sounds of comfort, promising her that it wasn't her fault and swearing that he loved her no matter what. She was hurting and needed to heal. Steve didn't know how, but he was going to help her. For now, all he could do was love her and let her weep. 


	16. Homecoming Party

(Chapter 16. Malibu. November 21. 4pm.)  
  
Mark Sloan was pleased to be arriving home almost two hours early. After they had finished dealing with the victims of a huge pileup on the freeway, Jesse and Amanda had offered to cover for him for the rest of his shift. They would be getting off in a couple of hours. Then they would come out to the beach house and they would all have a little welcome home party for Steve.  
  
He was whistling a light-hearted tune as he found the spare key hidden in the shrubbery and put it in the lock, but he was so happy to have his son home that as he walked in the door, he burst into song, "Supercalif...."  
  
A sharp, "Shhh!" cut him off as he entered the living room. He looked to see Steve sitting on the couch with Olivia curled up and sleeping soundly in his arms. At his questioning look, his son fixed him with an angry glare. He waited patiently for Steve to speak.  
  
"You told me she wanted to talk, Dad. Did you know about what?"  
  
Mark needed to tread carefully. He wasn't sure what Olivia had told Steve, and he didn't want to disclose anything she had wanted him to keep confidential. "I found out on Friday when I apologized for you like you asked."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me, Dad? Didn't you think I needed to know?"  
  
As Steve's voice rose in volume, Olivia started to stir, and Mark suggested, "Let's continue this in the dining room. I'm sure she could use some rest."  
  
After a moment's thought, Steve nodded his assent. Very gently, Mark helped him move Olivia from his lap and onto the couch. She never woke up. Steve took the afghan off the back of the couch and covered her up lest she catch a chill. Then Mark helped Steve into the wheelchair and pushed him out to the table.  
  
As Mark sat across the table from him, Steve began their conversation again. "How could you keep this from me, Dad? You know how I feel about her. It would have been so much easier for both of us if I had known."  
  
Mark knew his son was upset, and he tried gently to explain that until Olivia wanted to tell Steve something, it was none of his business. "First of all, son, I didn't know anything until just this past Friday. She asked me not to tell anyone. In fact, she insisted. She invoked doctor-patient confidentiality, but even if she hadn't, it's not my story to tell."  
  
"Since when did she become your patient, Dad?" Steve asked in an accusing tone.  
  
Mark became stone-faced. "By her reckoning, it was the day she woke up in your bed. Now, if you want to talk, I'll talk; but if you're going to interrogate me, this conversation is over."  
  
Steve covered his face for several moments. When he looked up again, there were tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad, but you don't know how close I came to losing her. I pushed again. I said I wanted to be serious or I wanted her to stay away. I care too much to just be friends. She walked out." Steve held his thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart and said, "She was this close to gone, Dad, but she says that hideous pink jeep wouldn't start."  
  
Mark smiled kindly at his son and said, "Thank God for that hideous pink jeep, huh?"  
  
Steve smiled back and said, "Yeah, I guess so."  
  
Both men sat in comfortable silence for several moments. Then Steve asked, "Why didn't she tell me before?"  
  
"Son, you've got to remember, for a while you two weren't talking. Then the very day you made up, you were shot. You've been her patient for three months. It was her job to comfort and care for you. Unloading something like this on you would have been terribly unprofessional, and Olivia, above all things, is a consummate professional."  
  
Steve gave his dad a disbelieving look and said, "Dad, you know there were moments between us that were, well, not strictly professional, don't you?"  
  
Mark nodded and said with a small laugh, "Yeah, son, I know. She mentioned to me that it was a challenge for her to keep business and pleasure separate when she was treating you."  
  
"Really? Dad, why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"She asked me not to. About a week before she finally took your cast off, she came to me and asked my advice. She wanted to know what I thought she should do about her feelings for you."  
  
"And you told her...?" Steve prompted.  
  
"I told her that I didn't want to see you hurt; that it would look bad, but if she cared about you and you felt the same for her that neither of you should care what other people thought; and that beyond that, she had to make the decision for herself. She decided to wait until you were out of the hospital, and I supported her decision."  
  
Steve sat quietly staring out at the sky and the ocean for a long moment. Then he asked quietly, "What do I do now, Dad?"  
  
Mark asked, "What do you want to do, son?"  
  
Steve thought for a moment, and answered, "At first I wanted to kill both of those guys when she told me what had happened. This Ted was just plain evil. I think she loved him like a brother, and he betrayed her and his best friend. Keith, her fiancé, was a fool. She saved his life, Dad, and he'd be lucky to have her. He blamed her for what happened, and I think she blames herself because of him. She's tortured herself all these years because he broke it off.  
  
"I wanted to kill them both for hurting her, but then I realized that if it weren't for them and what they did, she wouldn't be here now. She wouldn't have been there when I was shot, either, and I would be looking at a very different future than the one that lies in store for me."  
  
Mark stood up and came around behind the wheelchair. Now that he knew what part of her past Olivia had revealed, he could read his son's reactions better and he felt more comfortable giving advice. He pushed Steve over to the sliding glass doors and stood there watching the ocean with his son. Olivia had told Steve the right thing first, and she hadn't told him too much at once. Mark was pleased that she was going slowly with her story, and he knew if his son could handle that terrible incident, he would be able to handle the rest.  
  
But he couldn't tell Steve what to do. That had to be his own decision. He asked again, "What do you want to do, now, son?"  
  
"I want to love her," Steve answered simply.  
  
Mark was secretly delighted. Olivia was carrying a lot of sorrow inside her, but she seemed to truly love his son. He couldn't push Steve into anything with this woman who had so many issues, but he could encourage him a little. Mark believed that the tragedy in her past was precisely what made her a good match for his son. After what she'd been through and all she had survived, she could handle the worry and strain that his job would put on a relationship. Adversity had made her strong, strong enough to love his son. He put a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder and said, "If you want to love her, then that's what you should do, Steve."  
  
After a bit, Steve nodded and said, "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."  
  
Mark patted his son on the shoulder and went to his room to change his clothes, leaving Steve to stare out at the ocean.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve had been watching the surf for quite some time when two freckled arms wrapped around him from behind and he was enveloped by the scent of lavender. He took hold of them, held them close around him, and laughed. "I've never dated a woman with so many freckles before. Do you have them all over?"  
  
"Maybe some day you'll find out," Olivia said with a giggle. Then more seriously, she asked, "Are we dating?"  
  
Steve slid his grasp down to one of her hands and used it to guide her around to where he could see her. He nodded and told her, "If you want to."  
  
She leaned down and hugged him tightly and whispered, "I'd like that."  
  
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. She kissed him softly on the lips. A spark flared between them. Suddenly, his hands were in her hair and her arms were around his neck, "Just like the day in Dad's office," Steve thought. Steve heard the blood rushing in his ears, and Olivia's breath came in short, shallow gasps. Steve held her closer. They kissed long and deep, again and again. Both of them flushed with the heat of passion.  
  
"Oh, excuse me!"  
  
"WHAAA!"  
  
"DAD!"  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
Olivia collapsed to the floor beside Steve and dissolved in giggles. Steve fumed silently while Mark watched in amusement as they both turned a remarkable shade of crimson. Tears of laughter streamed down Olivia's face as Steve buried his face in his hands. Finally, Olivia caught her breath enough to tell Steve, "Cheer up, babe, at least we're not in his office."  
  
Steve lifted his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Thank God for small favors, huh?"  
  
Bemused, Mark asked, "Would you to like me to leave you two alone?"  
  
Steve answered, "Yes!"  
  
At the same time, Olivia said, "No!"  
  
They looked at each other, and Olivia spoke first, "Steve! He's your father! It's been a long time since he's had the pleasure of seeing you in his home. Besides, it's time to start dinner." Then she gave him a compelling little grin. "It's not like we'll never get another chance."  
  
Steve looked very seriously at Olivia, "You're sure you won't go into hiding again?"  
  
Olivia looked at Mark for a moment, searching for some indication that he was ok with her dating his son. When she got the slightest nod, she knelt by the wheelchair and looked Steve in the eye. "I don't remember the night I met you, but the morning after, once I got my bearings, I liked you and I trusted you. The next day, you were so sweet to me, in spite of what I did. You even forgave me for the mess I made of your truck. But that's not why I'm staying around."  
  
"I know, your jeep wouldn't start," Steve said sarcastically.  
  
She caressed his cheek, and said, "That may be the reason I couldn't run away this time, but it's not why I'll keep coming back, Steve. I'll keep coming back as long as you want me because that's what my heart tells me to do." She swallowed hard, "It's been so long, I didn't think I'd be afraid to say this." Taking a deep breath, she said, "I love you, Steve, with a love that's strong, and good, and worth fighting for. Whatever sorrows and ghosts may come out of my past, I will learn to deal with them and put them to rest so that I can do and be and give you everything that you deserve." She kissed him gently and finished by saying, "As long as you are willing, we will have the rest of our lives to pick up where we just left off. I promise."  
  
Steve thought for a moment. Then he nodded and said, "I'll take you at your word. Now, what's for dinner?"  
  
  
  
  
  
The welcome home party was very nice. Even better than the going away party Steve's friends had held for him at the hospital. Dinner had been excellent. Steve was amazed at Olivia's culinary skills. In two short hours, she had thrown together an Italian feast. The meal had started with a simple green salad with roasted pine nuts and honey and lemon dressing. It was an unusual change of pace, and quite delicious. Then she served spaghetti with a jarred tomato sauce to which she'd added mushrooms, broccoli, zucchini, spinach, lean ground beef, and a small amount of Italian sausage. With Italian green beans on the side, it was savory and filling, but it left room for dessert. Even Amanda's kids, Dion and CJ, had eaten their vegetables without complaint. Dessert was leftover cake and ice cream from the party at the hospital. Steve had been so overwhelmed earlier that he hadn't realized how good the cake was.  
  
"This cake is home made, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
"Yep," Olivia said, "it's my mama's recipe. She used to make it every year for my birthday."  
  
"What makes it so rich?"  
  
Olivia smiled demurely and said, "Mostly love, but a little good, strong coffee and home made butter cream icing help."  
  
CJ and Dion looked at each other. "Coffee?" asked Dion.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"EEEWWW!" both boys wailed together.  
  
"Hey, now," Olivia said, "That hurts my feelings. My mama always made this cake. You like the cake, don't you."  
  
The boys looked at each other and nodded.  
  
"Then don't complain," Liv admonished them.  
  
Dion spoke for both boys, "We're sorry." CJ nodded his agreement.  
  
"Apology accepted," Olivia told them. "Now eat your ice cream before it melts."  
  
Jesse looked at Olivia and asked, "Liv, with everything you do, where did you ever find time to learn to cook like this?"  
  
Mark and Steve burst into laughter, and Amanda looked at Jesse and gasped. Olivia and Jesse just looked confused as Olivia answered hesitantly. "I…don't know, Jess. It's just…something I have always been able to do. I guess it's…a gift."  
  
Mark and Steve laughed harder as Amanda covered her face and moaned.  
  
"Like Picasso paints?" Steve asked.  
  
"I wouldn't say it's that good," Olivia told him.  
  
Amanda flicked a gob of icing across the table at Steve and it hit him on the cheek. Mark opened his mouth to say something as he handed Steve a napkin, but Amanda gave him a threatening look and warned, "I've got more where that came from!"  
  
Mark closed his mouth.  
  
Dion yelled, "Food fight," and had a forkful of gooey cake and icing ready to fling at his brother  
  
Amanda stopped him with, "Don't even try it mister!"  
  
"But, Mom, you started it."  
  
"And I had reason to, you don't."  
  
Olivia and Jesse exchanged another puzzled look, and finally, Olivia asked, "Will someone please tell us what is going on?"  
  
Mark laughed and said, "I think you need to ask Amanda about that. Steve and I are still in the line of fire."  
  
Jesse looked at Amanda and said, "Well?"  
  
Amanda pointed her fork at Mark and Steve and vowed, "I will get even with both of you." Then she explained, "It was before you came to Community General, Jesse. I had invited Mark; Steve; Jack Stewart; Norman Briggs; and Delores, Mark's secretary at the time, to dinner at my place. Jesse, just like you asked Olivia, Delores asked me where I found time to learn to cook. Olivia, I answered just like you did, that it was a gift."  
  
Steve joined in here. "If I remember correctly, your exact words were, 'Picasso paints; I cook.'" Amanda flicked another gob of icing at him. This one hit him in the forehead. "Good aim," he said, wiping the sticky stuff away. Amanda never noticed the bit of ice cream that CJ had splattered onto the sleeve of her blouse. No one decided to tell her.  
  
Olivia was still confused, "What's so funny about that?"  
  
Mark finished the story. "Nothing at all, really. The funny part was that she had gotten the food from a catering service and had let us believe she cooked it herself. When a friend of hers showed up at the house about to deliver quadruplets, Jack found the caterer's box in the kitchen while looking for some towels and never let her live it down."  
  
Jesse looked at Amanda, grinned, and said, "Caught red-handed, huh?"  
  
She hit him squarely on the nose with a spoonful of ice cream, but was also hit simultaneously from four directions at once as Olivia, Steve, CJ, and Dion all gave her a dose of her own medicine. Mark wisely retreated as a genuine food fight did erupt and last for several seconds. He stood near the door and watched the younger people playing and laughing in his dining room and knew that his life was good.  
  
Finally, Amanda yelled, "Enough! I surrender!" As the ruckus settled and she, Jesse, Olivia, and the boys cleaned up the mess, she announced to anyone who was listening, "I'll have you all know that I have become quite an accomplished cook since then."  
  
"That's what she thinks," Dion countered with a snicker.  
  
Amanda paused to look at her son. "Oh, yeah? Well, mister, next time you want waffles for breakfast, you can make them yourself."  
  
"Aw, Mom, you know I was kidding."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say."  
  
Steve couldn't believe how good it felt to be home. As he looked at his dad and friends, his family, he felt himself start to choke up. Then a sticky little hand rested on his arm.  
  
"You ok, Uncle Steve?"  
  
He reached down and picked up CJ and put the child in his lap. "I'm just fine, CJ. I was just thinking it's been a long time since we've all sat here and played a game. I kind of missed that when I was in the hospital."  
  
"Oh. Well, maybe we can play after you open your presents."  
  
"Presents?"  
  
"Uh-huh, everybody got you something. Dion and I got you a..."  
  
Dion quickly put a hand over his younger brother's mouth, "Be quiet, CJ, it's supposed to be a surprise when he opens it."  
  
"Well, I'm tired of waiting!" CJ complained. "Mommy, can we give Uncle Steve his backpack now?"  
  
"CJ, you told him!" Dion wailed.  
  
"Oh, no! I'm sorry I spoiled the surprise, Uncle Steve. It slipped out!"  
  
Steve smiled and reassured the little boy. "It's all right, CJ. I'm surprised to be getting presents as it is. It's ok if I know what one of them is ahead of time."  
  
CJ smiled and told his brother, "See, Dion. It's ok."  
  
"Yeah," Dion smiled back, "You're just lucky Uncle Steve is a nice guy."  
  
As Olivia and Amanda finished clearing the table, Mark and Jesse went off to get a pile of gifts from the hall closet. When they came back, Dion and CJ went for the biggest package first. Placing it in Steve's lap, Dion said, "I picked out the style, and CJ picked the color."  
  
Steve opened the box to find a high-quality backpack with a detachable lunch pack and a special pocket holding a water bottle.  
  
CJ told him, "Mommy said you'd probably spend a lot of time walking on the beach to get strong again, and we thought this would be a good way to carry some of the things you'd need with you."  
  
"Well, yeah, guys," Steve agreed, "This is great. It even has a key ring inside so I don't lose my house key on the beach."  
  
Both boys were jumping up and down in excitement as CJ said, "Now you have to see what Olivia got for you."  
  
Olivia handed him a long slender package. He opened it to find a camp chair with arm rests, a high back and a cup holder.  
  
Dion said, "Look, Uncle Steve, she sewed straps on the backpack so you can carry the chair with you."  
  
He looked to Olivia and grinned. "Gotta love Velcro, huh?"  
  
She nodded, "Yep."  
  
Mark gave him a new, high-end, voice-activated cell phone to replace his old one that had been broken when he fell from the stairs during the shooting. Amanda gave him a beach blanket, and Jesse had bought him a fishing rod and tackle box. "I figured when you got tired of walking, you could stop for a rest before you headed home," Jesse said shyly.  
  
Steve tried to thank everyone for the gifts, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was an enormous yawn.  
  
"He's unimpressed," Olivia said dryly, but with a wink that made everyone laugh.  
  
Steve laughed too, and said, "Really guys, I appreciate all of this, and all the support you have given me. I...." He yawned again, tears of fatigue suddenly coming to his eyes. "I'm beat. I wish this could go on all night. It's so good to be here with all of you again, but I'm exhausted and really need to get some sleep."  
  
Amanda patted his shoulder affectionately and said, "We understand, Steve. It's been a big day, and it is almost ten o'clock. We all need to be going home."  
  
Mark pushed Steve out through the living room to the door as Olivia, Jesse, Amanda, and the boys made to leave. "All of you are coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, right?" Mark asked.  
  
"We wouldn't miss it for the world, would we, guys?" Amanda said.  
  
"No way!" Dion agreed.  
  
"Unh-uh!" CJ grunted, half-asleep.  
  
"Good," Mark said. "Jess?"  
  
"I'm scheduled to work from six until noon, and Susan and I had plans for the early part of the afternoon, but I can be here around six."  
  
"Ok, what about you, Liv?"  
  
Olivia sighed and said. "I'm not much fun around the holidays." Looking at Steve she said, "Give me a call early in the day, maybe we can go for a walk or a drive, and we'll see what develops from there, ok?"  
  
Steve nodded and Mark said, "Sounds like a plan. Olivia, I won't insist that you stay for dinner, but I want you to know there's always room for you at our table."  
  
"Thanks, Mark."  
  
"Hey, Liv," Steve said, "How are you getting home? Your car won't start, remember?"  
  
"I can give her a lift," Jesse offered.  
  
"No," Olivia said, "You have to work early. You need to go straight home and get some sleep." Before Amanda could offer, Olivia said, "You have kids to put to bed. I'll try to start it one more time, and if that doesn't work, I'll call a cab." All of the others opened their mouths to protest, but she cut them off, "No discussion."  
  
Amanda gave Steve a kiss on the cheek, and Dion gave him a hug. CJ just snored at him, and the three headed off into the night. Jesse shook his hand and said, "Welcome home, Steve. Have a good night." Steve thanked him, and Jesse was gone.  
  
Steve, Olivia, and Mark stood on the front walk for a moment. Soon the silence became awkward. Then Steve asked, "Uh, Dad, could you give us a minute alone."  
  
"Hmm? Oh, ah, sure, son! Yes, yes. I'll just come back in say, five minutes or so, or, ah, I guess you could just ring the bell when you're ready to come in. Can you reach the bell from your chair?"  
  
"Yes, Dad," Steve said patiently as Olivia tried to hide a giggle.  
  
"Ok, then son. Olivia, drive carefully, if your car starts. If it doesn't..."  
  
"Dad, please go inside."  
  
"Oh, right. Bye!"  
  
As the door clicked shut behind Mark, Olivia could suppress her laughter no longer. Steve found the sound delightfully musical as it echoed in the night. Wiping away tears of laughter, she said, "I just love your dad. He's so sweet."  
  
"Yeah, and sometimes he's aggravating, too."  
  
"Steve," Olivia said gently, "You know he was trying to leave. He just couldn't find a graceful way to exit."  
  
"I know, I know. I just wanted him to go so I could have a minute alone with you."  
  
"I'm glad you asked him to go. I have something else to give you, if you want it, but I didn't want everyone else to see."  
  
Steve's curiosity was aroused. "Oh? What else do you have for me?"  
  
She pressed a shiny silver key into his hand. "It's to my place," she said. "Any time you're ready to use it."  
  
He closed the fingers of one hand around the key, and reached out to take her hand with the other. He gently pulled her into his lap and held her close. "You've insisted on going so slowly up until now. Are you sure you want me to have this?"  
  
She never spoke her answer, but made it clear all the same. She raked her fingers through his hair, and kissed him behind the ear. The sensation sent electric fire racing through him. Then she kissed him on the forehead, the tip of the nose, the chin, carefully dodging his seeking lips. Finally, she planted a passionate kiss on his lips, and he responded enthusiastically. He slipped a hand around her waist and up her back, under her blouse. He teased the sensitive spots he found along her spine as her hands played across his chest.  
  
A distant part of his mind was appalled that they were necking like teenagers in the driveway of his dad's house, but the rest of his mind and all of his body simply didn't care. He wanted this woman, in every way a man could, and he was going to have her. As his breath came in ragged gasps he undid the top button of her blouse and...  
  
...she started to giggle.  
  
He moaned in agony. "Damn, I'm starting to hate that giggle. Olivia, why do you do this to me? WHYYYY?"  
  
She continued to giggle. Tears of laughter streaming down her face, fighting for air, she finally said, "Language, Steve." Then she took a moment more to catch her breath and continued, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to. It's just awkward for me." Becoming serious, she looked him in the eye and said, "I've only made love to one man, and that was only one time, in the dark, years ago. Every time we get started, I imagine someone walking in on us and...." She started to giggle again.  
  
"You get embarrassed and start to giggle."  
  
She nodded.  
  
Steve had to grin. "As frustrating as it is, I have to admit, I think it's cute. I'm amazed that a woman as beautiful and charming as you has only been with a man once before, and I'm flattered to think you'd let me be the second. Mostly though, I want to be the last." He held the key up so it caught the light. "I'll be using this as soon as I can."  
  
Olivia giggled again, and stood up. "I do need to get home, babe. If I wait much longer, I'll be too tired to drive."  
  
"Liv, do you really believe your car is going to start?"  
  
She pushed a few stray hairs away from his face, let her hand travel caressingly down his cheek, and said, "I believe things happen for a reason. That car is twenty years old. It has almost half a million miles on it, and it has never, ever, failed to start before. I believe I was supposed to stay here with you this afternoon, just like I wasn't supposed to leave the hospital the night you got shot. Now that we know where we stand, I believe I'll be allowed to leave for the night."  
  
She kissed him again, and it took his breath away. "Call me tomorrow."  
  
Steve admired her backside as she trotted over to the pink abomination in the driveway. She climbed in, turned the key, and the engine roared to life.  
  
"I'll be damned!" he muttered in consternation as she waved goodbye and he waved back. He stared at the empty spot where the jeep had been for several minutes before his mind could grasp what had happened. He could almost believe that a greater force was intervening on their behalf. Then he smiled. She was the one. 


	17. The Talk

(Chapter 17. November 22. 6 AM. Olivia's house, later at the beach house.)  
  
Olivia smiled in her sleep. Anyone who saw her would have known she was having a very pleasant dream. They would have heard her sigh with contentment and murmur a name. Then they would have seen a troubled frown cross her angelic face as the ringing of a phone intruded into her fantasy. They would have seen her eyes squeeze tight as she pulled the pillow over her head to block out the insistent sound. Finally, they would have seen her as she rolled over and got the phone on the sixth ring.  
  
"Good morning," Olivia said cordially.  
  
"Good morning," said a suave male voice. "Is it too early?"  
  
A smile lit her face. "Yes," she said. "But don't let that stop you. I was just dreaming about you and didn't want to quit."  
  
"I can call back later," Steve offered.  
  
"What? No! I'm awake, now, babe. We might as well make plans for the day."  
  
She heard Steve laugh. "I love the way you say that so easily."  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"Babe. It makes me feel like I'm special to you."  
  
"Well, you are." She smiled into the phone, "I guess that will have to be my own special nickname for you, huh?"  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
"So what do you have planned for the day?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Steve said on a yawn. "I just woke up and rolled over to call you. I'm still in bed myself."  
  
"I see. Well, do you want me to come over, and we can decide then?"  
  
"Actually, I was thinking we could just lay in bed and talk for a while. It's nice to wake up to the sound of your voice."  
  
"Well, babe," she emphasized the new nickname, "what are we going to talk about while we lay around in bed?"  
  
"How about..." he pretended to think it over, "How about what we would do if we were laying around in bed together?"  
  
Olivia couldn't say a word; she just started to giggle. She heard Steve's frustrated sigh come over the line. "It's not going to happen, is it?" he asked.  
  
"Sorry, babe," Olivia laughed into the phone, "Not today. I never thought of you as the phone-sex type."  
  
"I'm not, really. I just wanted to see what you would say. I think I've got a nickname for you, now." Steve said with a laugh.  
  
"Oh, what is it?"  
  
"Gigglefits," he said with a smile in his voice.  
  
Olivia sat bolt upright in bed and squealed in a panic, "Steve, no!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Someone will wonder what it means and one of us will have to explain. I would die of embarrassment."  
  
"I know," Steve laughed. "But you're so cute when you're embarrassed."  
  
"Steve," Olivia implored, "please don't do that to me. I don't know if I could take it. I'm...shy...about things like that."  
  
After a pause, he agreed. "Ok, I won't use it..."  
  
"Oh, thank you."  
  
"...often."  
  
"Oh, ok." Olivia thought about arguing the point, but decided against it. Perhaps the safer path was to change the subject. "Look, I'll come over in an hour or so, and we'll go for a walk on the beach, ok?"  
  
"Sounds good for a start." Then Steve lowered his voice to a pitch that he knew drove women wild. "Maybe then we can do something else on the beach."  
  
The sound of her giggle made Steve grin. "See you in about an hour, Gigglefits?"  
  
Olivia chose to ignore the jibe. "Yeah, babe, maybe a little longer, I have to get gas."  
  
"Ok. You want me to have Dad hold breakfast for you?"  
  
"Nah, I'm already starving. Besides, it's probably the only chance you two will have to spend time alone together all day."  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Steve paused a moment, "Liv?"  
  
"Yeah, babe?"  
  
"Why's it so important to you that my dad and I get time together? You did the same thing last night when he interrupted us."  
  
"Because I miss my dad," she said sadly, "and I'd give anything for the chance to have breakfast with him in the morning."  
  
"Oh. Well, you know, I'd be more than happy to share mine," he said only half in jest.  
  
"Your dad, or your breakfast?"  
  
"Either. Both."  
  
She laughed. "So accommodating. Really, I appreciate the offer, Steve, but not today. I'll see you later."  
  
"Ok, bye, Liv."  
  
It wasn't until after Olivia hung up that it occurred to Steve to wonder why she didn't just go home for Thanksgiving if she missed her dad so much. Or if going home was too difficult for her, she could certainly afford to bring her family to LA. He decided he'd ask her about it later. He put the receiver in its cradle and rolled over to get out of bed. He looked at the wheelchair, conveniently parked beside him, and stuck his tongue out at it. Then he laughed at himself. It seemed like the kind of silly, playful thing Olivia would do. She'd had a huge impact on his life already.  
  
He found himself wondering how someone who had been through what she had could be so joyful all the time. What was the source of her happiness? Where did she get her strength? The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was still so much he needed to know about her. He found himself hoping they'd have time for another long talk today. This time, though, he wanted to discuss more cheerful matters.  
  
He grinned, stuck his tongue out at the wheelchair again, and decided he'd quit using it today. From now on, however long it took him, he would walk where he was going. Right now, he was going to the bathroom.  
  
The walker was strapped to the back of the wheelchair. He turned the chair around, undid the straps, and unfolded the walker. Slowly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He slid his feet into his bedroom slippers, gripped the walker, and tried to stand up. He didn't make it; he was too stiff.  
  
"Aw, nuts," he muttered.  
  
He was determined to do this himself. He was not going to call for help. He tried again.  
  
Just then, his dad poked his head in the room. "You up, Steve?"  
  
"Yeah, Dad, almost," he grunted with the effort of trying to make his stiff muscles and joints work.  
  
Mark was at his side in a flash. "Here, son," he said, taking Steve's arm. "Let me help. Why don't you use the chair?"  
  
Steve shook his dad loose and collapsed back on the bed. "Leave me alone, Dad!" He spoke more sharply than he had intended, and he could see the hurt in his father's eyes. It tore at his heart, and he apologized immediately.  
  
"Dad, I'm sorry I yelled. I need to do this myself. I know you want to help, but I'd rather it take me all day to do this one thing for myself than to have someone help me, and I don't want to use the wheelchair anymore."  
  
Mark nodded. "I understand, Steve. You let me know any time you need anything, and I'll remember to ask before I jump in and start giving help where it's neither needed nor wanted, ok?"  
  
Steve nodded and said, "It's a deal."  
  
"Now, is there anything I can do?" Mark asked.  
  
"Could you bring me my robe?"  
  
Mark got the robe and stood nearby. His heart broke as he watched his son, once so vital and athletic, struggle simply to stand. For a moment, it looked as if Steve would fall back to the bed yet again, and it took all of Mark's self-restraint not to reach out and steady him. Finally, Steve was on his feet and balanced. Mark held out the robe for him to slip into.  
  
"Thanks, Dad," Steve said gratefully. "I think it would really help if the bed were higher. Do we have some bricks or something in the garage we could use to raise it up?"  
  
"I think so," Mark said. "I'll see if I can get some help from Jesse this evening."  
  
"Ok. I'd appreciate it. Now, please don't be offended by this request, but could you find something else to do while I get a shower and get dressed? It's going to take me a while, and I don't need an audience."  
  
"You'll yell if you need help?"  
  
Steve nodded, "I promise."  
  
"What do you want for breakfast?"  
  
"Surprise me."  
  
Mark lifted the bedspread and looked under the bed. He opened the closet and looked in there, then peeked behind the headboard.  
  
"Uh, Dad, what are you doing?"  
  
"Looking for Olivia. Last time you told me to surprise you with breakfast, she was in your bed."  
  
Steve made a face. "Not funny, Dad."  
  
Mark grinned back and said, "I'll have something ready for you in, say, forty-five minutes."  
  
Steve nodded and took a tentative step. "I think I'll be ready by then. By the way, Olivia will be here in about an hour, so make it something I can eat quickly."  
  
"Ok. Should I make enough for her?" Mark noticed that every step Steve took became more confident. He just needed to limber up some.  
  
"No, she wanted us to have some time together, and figured breakfast would be the only chance we'd have today."  
  
"Well," Mark said, "that's thoughtful of her."  
  
"Yeah, Dad," Steve said with a slight smile, "she's something special. Would you please go now?"  
  
Mark nodded and left the room, grinning. He knew that smile. Steve was smitten. Suddenly the grin turned to a frown. She was special, but would she be the one? He was afraid for his son. Sometimes Steve gave his heart away so easily. There had been women who had deliberately used him and intentionally hurt him. Others had never meant any harm, but they couldn't handle the constant worrying about his safety. Olivia had a strength born of adversity that none of the others ever had, but would she be willing to face the endless fear and frequent sorrow that came with loving a cop?  
  
As Steve crept toward the bathroom, he heard his dad rattling about the kitchen. He hoped he could be showered and dressed in time for breakfast. He nodded to himself and decided that would be his first goal for the day. He was going to start setting a series of goals for himself, and see how many he could accomplish every day.  
  
In the bathroom, Steve immediately noticed that his dad had had safety rails installed by the toilet and in the shower. There was also a shower seat and a hand-held showerhead. He hated to admit that he needed them, but he knew his dad had done the right thing. He decided to brush his teeth before he faced facts and stepped into the shower. He refused to think of himself as handicapped. His condition was temporary, and in just a few more weeks, he was going to be back in form.  
  
He rinsed the toothbrush and put it back in the holder. Then he gingerly walked over to the shower and took off his clothes. He noticed with some pride that his balance was improving. He didn't feel like he was about to topple over when he let go of the walker to take off his robe and pajama top. As he took off the pajama bottoms, he was surprised to find that his legs were bulking up again. His clothes weren't falling off him any more.  
  
He stood naked in the bathroom for a moment, took a deep breath, and turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. What he saw made him gasp. He knew he looked bad, but he was unprepared for what he saw the first time he took a good look in the mirror.  
  
The scars from the bullet wounds had created dents in his flesh while the surgical incisions looked like welts. Some scars were an angry red, and others were an unnatural white. The surface of the tissue was striated and shiny. He touched one of the red scars on his pelvis. He expected to feel heat there, but it was no warmer than the rest of him. He was surprised that even in such a sensitive region, he couldn't really feel his own touch.  
  
A thin tendril of panic wrapped around his heart as he wondered how much sensation he had lost there. He had worked hard to get back his confidence and physical strength, but he still had a long way to go. Had the shooting also taken something that he couldn't get back? He couldn't imagine loving Olivia and not being able to make love to her.  
  
Trying to clear away such thoughts, he shook his head. Olivia had been unfailingly honest, surely she would have told him if that had been...damaged. Then again, she was so skittish about such matters; maybe she couldn't bring herself to discuss it. Steve could feel his heart pounding as his breathing speeded up. He'd never considered the possibility. He leaned heavily on the walker. He was getting dizzy and needed to sit, but the toilet was several steps away. He was loath to do it, but finally he called for help.  
  
"Dad, I need you, now!"  
  
Mark was at his side in scant seconds. "What is it, son?"  
  
"I need to sit, and I don't think I can make it to the commode on my own."  
  
Mark put an arm around Steve's waist and Steve put his arm around Mark's neck. They walked as quickly as possible to the commode. As his dad helped him turn to sit, Steve demanded, "My robe."  
  
Mark draped the robe around his son's shoulders and helped him ease down onto the closed lid of the toilet. Then he sat on the edge of the tub to face his son. "What happened, Steve? You're panting like you've just run a race. What's wrong?"  
  
As Steve slipped his arms into the robe and tied it shut, tears came to his eyes. "Aw, dammit!" He ran his hands over his face and said, "I am so...damned tired...of feeling this way." He took some toilet paper off the roll and wiped his eyes and blew his nose.  
  
Mark put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, squeezed, and asked, "Just how are you feeling, son?"  
  
Steve was still fighting tears as he answered, "Everything's going fine. I'm making real progress, and I'm getting stronger ...and ...and ...and ...I know there's hope. I know I'm going to recover."  
  
"But then something goes wrong?"  
  
Steve nodded and swiped at his tears again. "A stray thought or some kind of minor inconvenience and all of a sudden my heart is pounding, my chest hurts, I can't breath, I get dizzy, and my stomach starts to churn."  
  
"Your mouth goes dry, you get the shakes, and you start to sweat?"  
  
"Sometimes," Steve nodded. "How'd you know?"  
  
"You're describing a panic attack, Steve. Have you had them often?"  
  
"Sometimes during PT, yeah."  
  
"And you never said anything to Davis?"  
  
Steve shook his head no. "It was kind of embarrassing, you know? I just let him believe it was the physical exertion."  
  
"I see. Son, I've noticed that you've been very emotional lately, and that's to be expected. I've been a little concerned, but what you've just described is something serious. I didn't say anything before, because I thought you might want to handle it yourself, but, Steve, given what you've just told me, I think you should see a counselor."  
  
Steve started to protest, but Mark overrode him. "There's nothing wrong with you mentally, but this whole ordeal has been emotionally trying for you. You need to talk to someone who can help you figure out exactly what has been triggering these episodes. It could even be posttraumatic stress disorder, but once you know what's causing your problems, you can start to control them. I can make an appointment for you for after PT on Monday."  
  
Steve shook his head. "I think I know what caused this incident, and I have a pretty good idea what caused the others. I think it will stop if I can ask a few questions and get some straight answers. Can we try that first? If it doesn't work and if this happens again, I'll let you call that counselor; but I need to ask these questions anyway."  
  
Mark considered a moment and nodded. "Ok, son, but I want your word that if you have another panic attack you will tell me right away and that you'll let me make an appointment for you."  
  
Steve nodded. "Agreed."  
  
"You understand, that if you don't hold up your end of this deal, you're lying to me. I mean that."  
  
Steve closed his eyes, "Dad, I just want this to stop." He looked Mark in the eye now, and said, "If it happens again, I will let you know, because I know I need help. If getting the answers to all my questions doesn't do the trick, I'll know I can't handle it myself."  
  
"Ok, son, ask your questions."  
  
Steve took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Am I fooling myself? Will I really recover and go back to work, or am I going to be crippled for life?"  
  
Mark shook his head. "Son, that's not an easy question to answer."  
  
"Dad, I need to know. What can you tell me?"  
  
"I'll tell you everything I can, son, but it's not as simple as saying, 'yes, you'll get better,' or, 'no, you won't'. Olivia promised you you'd recover completely, didn't she?"  
  
Steve nodded, "Yes, sir."  
  
Mark sighed. "She believes that one hundred percent, Steve. She is a person of powerful faith, and she believes that God has His hand on you and that He will make everything all right. For her, there is no doubt, no other alternative. In her mind, there is a divine plan for you. She simply believes that that's the way things will be." Mark hoped Steve would let things go at that. He didn't want to have to tell his son that he lacked the same confidence.  
  
"What do you think, Dad?"  
  
Mark took a long time to consider his answer. Finally, he said, "I have tried to share her faith, Steve, but I can't. Maybe I haven't seen enough miracles to believe God would work one for you." Now both men had tears in their eyes. "Every day, every step you take, I feel more and more optimistic; but if you ask me if I think you'll make a full recovery, all I can say is we'll have to wait and see. I don't know." Mark smiled. "I do think Olivia will be there for you as long as you need her, and I think your chances will be better if you tap into her hope, faith, and strength."  
  
Steve thought about his dad's answer for a moment. Then he said, "Thanks for being honest with me, Dad. Is that why you and Olivia were so angry at each other right after the shooting? Was that your 'difference of opinion'?"  
  
Mark smiled again and wiped his eyes, "Yeah, son, it was, but we're not angry anymore. I've realized that she truly believes what she said. She's going to make sure you're ok, whether that means a full recovery or learning to live with limitations. She's going to make sure you have a good life, no matter what. She also understands that I wanted to protect you from false hopes."  
  
"I haven't made this decision yet, Dad, but what would you say if I wanted to marry her?"  
  
Mark laughed. "I'd say the same thing if it were any other girl in the world. I hope you have a happy and wonderful life together."  
  
Steve smiled at that. "Thanks, Dad. I have one more question. It's not an easy one for me to ask."  
  
"Take your time, son."  
  
Steve nodded. "I know the bullets missed my vital organs. I know I was busted up bad, but the bones have healed. Where most of the bullets hit, though...well...am I...is there other damage to my...." Steve groaned in frustration. He had to get this question out. He needed to know. "I know I should just be happy to be alive and walking, but, if I were to marry Olivia, could I still have children the, uh, the natural way?"  
  
Mark looked at his son very seriously. "You're asking me if this has left you impotent."  
  
Steve averted his eyes and nodded. Suddenly he understood Olivia's giggles. They were a pleasant way to divert attention from her discomfort. It was her way of avoiding embarrassment.  
  
"Steve, there is no indication of any physical injury that would prevent you from enjoying typical intercourse." For the first time, Steve realized that his father took refuge in big words and medical jargon when discussing a delicate topic. The more syllables he put in his response, the farther away he pushed the uncomfortable discussion.  
  
"The emotional stress of everything that has happened may interfere with your sexual activity for a while, but as you learn to cope with the emotions you must be experiencing, everything should be ok. If for some reason things don't take care of themselves, there are therapists who specialize in sexual dysfunction, and they can help you learn to talk about it so you can work your problems out."  
  
"Is it wrong for me to worry about that?"  
  
Mark shook his head no. "Absolutely not. Son, sexual intimacy is a vital part of most good relationships. Some couples, for whatever reason, manage without it, but they are remarkably few. For everyone else, that bond is essential for a successful marriage. If you are that fond of Olivia, then you should give that part of your relationship some of your concern, but I don't think you need to let it consume you because I don't think there was any injury done."  
  
Steve nodded. "I just want to be able to love her completely, you know?"  
  
"I understand that, Steve," Mark reassured him, "but remember, love comes from the heart, and there are all kinds of ways to make love. If she loves you the way you deserve, the two of you will be able to work it out together."  
  
"The way I deserve, Dad?"  
  
Mark had to swallow a huge lump in his throat. "Son, I am very proud of you. I think you have become an extraordinary man. You're a man of honor and phenomenal strength. I love you as my son, but I am also honored to have you as my friend. After all you have been through, I think you deserve to be the center of someone's universe. If you want that someone to be Olivia, then I hope that in her eyes, the sun rises and sets on you. In my opinion, if she doesn't love you like that, then she simply doesn't love you enough."  
  
Steve was now visibly embarrassed. "Thanks, Dad. Look, Olivia's going to be here any minute. Can you help me get into the shower?"  
  
Mark helped Steve get settled on the shower seat, and pulled the curtain closed for him. He lingered at the door long enough to see Steve's robe come flying over the curtain rod and to hear the water come on. Then he left to prepare breakfast, leaving the door slightly ajar in case his son should call him again.  
  
Steve closed his eyes and reveled in the blast of warm water on his body. He could feel the heat loosening stiff muscles and joints, and it seemed as if the rising steam lifted a weight of grief off his heart. With his dad's input, he felt he had a complete picture of his condition, now, and many of his worries had been put to rest. He felt optimistic. With his dad, his friends, and Olivia, he could handle whatever came his way.  
  
He was also surprised at how openly Mark had expressed his feelings. He'd always known his father loved him, but he'd never had any idea how much Mark respected him. It was at the same time humbling and uplifting to know that the man he had always looked to for direction thought so highly of him. It made him feel as if there was nothing beyond his capability.  
  
It was Thanksgiving Day, and he had so much to be thankful for. 


	18. Some Assembly Required

(Chapter 18. November 22. Malibu.)  
  
The bell rang and Mark excused himself from the table to answer it. As Steve finished the remains of his breakfast, he heard Olivia's laughter echo through the house.  
  
"He's so cute, Mark, I couldn't resist."  
  
Steve called out, "Why, thank you, Liv. I'm flattered."  
  
  
  
Olivia sat an enormous stuffed turkey in Mark's empty chair and gave Steve a skeptical look. After a moment, she looked at Mark and said, "I guess that was supposed to be amusing."  
  
Steve pretended to be hurt while Mark and Olivia laughed. Then she threw her arms around Steve's neck, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and asked, "So what do you have planned for today, babe?"  
  
"Frankly, I haven't thought about it yet. I do want to go for a walk, though."  
  
"Sounds good to me. Before we go, I have something for you." She grinned and added, "Some assembly required."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes and laughed.  
  
She looked up at Mark and said, "There are some things I need to get out of the jeep. After you clear the table, would you mind if I used it for a little project? It'll only take a few minutes."  
  
"That'll be fine, Olivia."  
  
"Ok. Thanks." She jumped up and started to trot out to her car. Half way out of the dining room, she stopped and added, "Oh, I'll need some old newspapers, too, to cover my work area."  
  
"I'll find some as soon as I clean up from breakfast," Mark said.  
  
"Super! Be right back!" She raced out of the room.  
  
Mark and Steve looked at each other and laughed.  
  
As he stacked the dirty dishes on the table in front of him, Steve asked, "Dad, is she always like that?"  
  
"Like what, son?"  
  
"Well, she's so cheerful and enthusiastic about everything. She seems so happy almost all the time, but most of the time I've known her, I've been a patient. Is she acting like that for my benefit, or is she always this happy?"  
  
Mark thought a minute. "Well, son, you found out yesterday that she's not always so happy, but when she gets down, she recovers quickly. She's not so bubbly when she's concerned about a patient; but when I see her in the hall or the lounge at the hospital, she always has a smile and a kind word for everyone. She can brighten a room just by being in it. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't heard her make someone laugh, and she's always doing nice things for people."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Well, think of all the things she has done to make you more comfortable, Steve." Mark carried the dirty dishes to the kitchen and began loading them in the dishwasher.  
  
Steve nodded his agreement, "She has been very thoughtful toward me, but I was her patient, and she has an inventive mind. I'm sure it was mostly a professional thing, and that she will be recycling those ideas for other patients in the future. What does she do for other people?"  
  
"Ok, true story," Mark began as he came back with cloth to wipe the table. "Apparently she and one of my students frequent the same drive-thru on the way to work in the morning. One day, she noticed him in the line right behind her, and she paid for his meal. He got to the window and was told someone had already covered his bill."  
  
"No kidding. I'll bet that made his day," Steve said.  
  
"Oh, it did, but there's more," Mark said as he brought out some newspapers. He and Steve started covering the table.  
  
"He came to me that morning and asked how I thought he should respond. I'm sure he recognized Olivia's influence at Community General and didn't want to offend her. I told him she knew he was a student and wouldn't expect anything more than a word of thanks, but I was curious about what she did. When I asked her about it, do you know what she told me?"  
  
Steve gave it some thought and answered, "Knowing her, it was probably something off-beat."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Mark agreed, "I expected her to say something about money being tight for medical students, but that wasn't it at all. She looked at me, completely serious, and said, 'If that had been my last act on earth, it would have made someone happy. I live as if every moment were my last, and I want to spend my last moment doing something good for someone else.'"  
  
Steve drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "That's sweet, but very odd."  
  
"What's odd?" Olivia asked as she came back into the room.  
  
Steve looked at her and grinned, "Oh, we were just talking about you."  
  
Olivia rolled her eyes and said with good-natured sarcasm, "Like that really narrows it down."  
  
Mark and Steve watched with mounting curiosity as she place a steel toolbox and four thick circles of Plexiglas on the newspapers on the table. She opened the combination lock on the toolbox and took out a cordless electric drill and a set of drill bits and fit one of the bits into the drill.  
  
"What are you planning to do with that?" Mark asked.  
  
"You'll see."  
  
She took a smaller box out of the toolbox and opened it to reveal sixteen brass screw-in eyes and eight lengths of brass chain with brass clips at both ends.  
  
Mark raised an eyebrow and said, "Very snazzy. What's it all for?"  
  
"Get me the walker and I'll show you."  
  
Mark brought the walker over and sat it beside her.  
  
"Uh, Liv," Steve said with some concern, "are you sure you know what you're doing?"  
  
She shot him a reproving look and said, "Babe, I built my own car, I know what I'm doing."  
  
She took out a tape measure and a pencil, put the pencil behind her ear, turned the walker upside down, measured across the bottom of the rubber feet that covered the ends of the walker legs, and wrote some figures on the newspaper.  
  
"It's just that it's my only way to get around. I don't want to be stuck without it if this idea of yours doesn't work."  
  
She gave him another look and said, "It'll work if you quit distracting me, but if I confuse my figures, we could have a mess."  
  
"In other words, 'shut up,' huh?"  
  
She smiled sweetly and said, "I never use those words. I can't stand to be so hurtful and to treat other's so badly. It offends me to hear them. I think they're terribly rude and diminish both the person who says them and the person they're said to."  
  
Confusion crossed Steve's face again. Olivia certainly was a puzzle. Then he said, "Oh. I'll be quiet now, anyway." She'd made him feel like he did when his fourth grade teacher would reprimand him. As a child, he had thought Mrs. McCray was the sweetest and the scariest woman in the world. She never snapped or raised her voice, but that look always let him know when he had gone too far. He always knew her next step was to call his dad.  
  
Olivia measured the brass chains and clips and the width of the eyes and wrote the figures down. She added the figures together and subtracted another figure from them. Taking a straight edge and a metal scriber out of the toolbox, she drew an x on each of the circles of Plexiglas, and measured the diameter of the circles. She wrote down the figures and did some math, then put the scriber into a pencil compass she'd taken from the toolbox. She drew a circle centered on the x on each of the pieces of Plexiglas that was just the size of the feet of the walker.  
  
She moved the walker over beside Steve and handed him her tape measure and the scriber. Then she wrote a figure on the newspaper near him and said, "Measure that far from the bottom of the walker feet up each leg of the walker and put two marks on it, one centered on the front of the leg, the other on the back. Be precise, or it won't work quite right."  
  
Steve nodded and did as he was told as Olivia put away the pencil and straight edge. While he was making his measurements, she took out a wooden box with no lid and sides about an inch high, a small hammer, and a chisel. She turned back a corner of the newspaper, placed a rubber pad on the table, set the box on the pad, put a Plexiglas circle in the box and started chiseling away the material inside the small circle she had drawn.  
  
When Steve finished his measuring, she put the tape measure and scriber away, handed him the drill, and said, "Make a hole on each of your marks, and screw one of the eyes into it."  
  
As he continued working, Steve asked, "Are you going to tell me what we're doing?"  
  
"Nope. Figure it out. What did you say you wanted to do today?"  
  
"Go for a walk on the beach?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"Think about it, babe," she said as she continued chiseling away a thin layer of Plexiglas inside the circle. "Why would walking on the beach be such good exercise? Why is it better than walking on a sidewalk?"  
  
"Because it's harder work. The sand is soft and it shifts underfoot."  
  
She smiled at him and asked, "So, why do you think we're doing this?"  
  
Steve wrinkled his brow in a thoughtful frown, then suddenly a smile spread across his face, "It's like snowshoes! You want to keep the legs of the walker from sinking into the sand so I can keep my balance when we go for a walk."  
  
Olivia grinned and said, "That's why the man's a detective!" She finished chiseling out her circles, and fitted them on the feet of the walker. Then she lifted it up, stood it on the table, and clipped the chains to the eyes that Steve had screwed into the legs of the walker. Finally she got the scriber out again, marked where the chains hung down, took the Plexiglas circles off the walker feet, drilled holes, had Steve and Mark help screw in the eyes, put everything back together and clipped the chains to the circles. The chains had to pull tight to reach from the eyes on the walker legs to the eyes on the Plexiglas, and they held everything together snugly.  
  
"You know, they make equipment especially for the beach, Liv," Mark suggested.  
  
"I know that," Olivia acknowledged. Looking at Steve she continued, "But it costs a fortune, takes up a lot of room, is only good for the beach, and takes several weeks to deliver. The 'sand shoes' are cheap, easy to attach, and they're small enough to store in the backpack the boys got you." Putting the walker on the floor, she put her tools away, folded up the newspapers around the Plexiglas shavings, looked at Steve, and said, "Want to try it out?"  
  
Steve looked at her creation and said, "No Velcro?"  
  
She laughed and said, "Not this time, babe."  
  
Slowly and deliberately, Steve moved back from the table, gripped the walker, pushed himself up, and said, "Let's go."  
  
Olivia asked, "Mark, where is that backpack, anyway? Maybe we'll decide to sit on the beach a while."  
  
Mark handed Olivia the backpack as she picked up her giant turkey. Then he opened the sliding glass door, and Steve and Olivia stepped out on to the deck. Steve walked to the edge of the steps and asked, "Uh, how am I going to get down?"  
  
Quite matter-of-factly, Olivia said, "Walk."  
  
"Liv, I don't know if I can."  
  
Mark was there at his side in a moment. "Son, you have to try. It'll be all right."  
  
Olivia offered her arm for support and said, "I'll help you down, and your dad will bring the walker behind us."  
  
"What if I fall, Liv?"  
  
"Then you get up again, but that won't happen. I won't let it. I promise."  
  
Steve looked at her and said, "You aren't strong enough to hold me up."  
  
Mark reassured him, "Son, you can't start backing off now because you're afraid. You can do this."  
  
Turning to his dad, Steve asked, "Do you really believe that, Dad?"  
  
Steve saw Olivia and Mark exchange a look; Mark nodded, and said firmly, "Yes, son, I do."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Steve gripped Olivia's arm, closed his eyes, and stepped off the edge. 


	19. On the Beach

FYI: I 'guesstimated' the date of Katherine Sloan's death from a scene in the movie __A Twist of the Knife__ where Mark tells Dr. Rachel Walters (Suzanne Pleshette) that his wife died about three years ago. Since the movie aired in 1993, if we assume this story is taking place in 2001-2002 that would make it "about twelve years ago." Now, any purists who say, "But Susan shouldn't be in the story in 2001-2002," to you I say, "artistic license." I am the author. I am allowed to be anal with dates and liberal with characters. :-)  
  
(Chapter 19. November 22. Malibu.)  
  
Steve and Olivia strolled slowly southward on the beach. She was wearing the backpack Amanda's boys had given Steve at his welcome home party the night before, and she was carrying her stuffed turkey under her left arm. Her right arm was looped loosely through Steve's left, but she was careful not to hold so tightly as to interfere with his use of the walker. The 'sand shoes' were working beautifully, and though walking on the shifting sand was a bit of a struggle, Steve found it exhilarating. Just a month ago, he wouldn't have been able to stand this long, let alone walk so far.  
  
They'd been walking in companionable silence for quite some time, when Steve suddenly had to ask a question. "So, why'd you bring the turkey?"  
  
Olivia thought a moment and said, "I don't know, but I think he's jealous."  
  
"He's jealous?"  
  
"Yeah," she said with a grin, "just five minutes ago he asked the same thing about you."  
  
"I am so amused," Steve told her in a less-than-amused voice. "I'm glad you decided to come out today. I enjoy spending time with you."  
  
"Well, I enjoy your company, too," Olivia assured him, "but I don't know if I'll be staying for dinner."  
  
"Why not, Liv?"  
  
"Like I told your dad, sometimes I'm just not much fun on holidays."  
  
"Oh, come on, Liv. What's the big deal?"  
  
She stopped walking and turned to face him. "Look, Steve, this is not a matter for discussion. If I feel like staying, I'll stay. If I don't, I'm leaving. I will not stay around and ruin someone else's holiday."  
  
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off, "That's the end of it."  
  
They walked a little longer, but the silence between them was less comfortable than before. This time Olivia broke it. "So, tell me about yourself."  
  
Steve laughed and said, "You already know me."  
  
"Barely. I know what's in your medical records. You've been through quite a few battles. I know you're one of the toughest men I've ever met, and one of the kindest and most compassionate. Still, there are a million and one things I don't know about you."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Oh, little things," Olivia said, "like what's your favorite color? How old are you? Why did you become a cop? Why do you still live with your dad?"  
  
Steve shook his head and said, "Blue; old enough to know it's on my medical chart so you'll catch me if I lie to you; because when I was a kid I spent some time getting into trouble and thought this was a way to give back to the people who helped me out; and because I love him, we get along, and you can't beat the rent or the view."  
  
They had walked behind some dunes, and the beach house was hidden from sight. "Let's stop here," Olivia suggested.  
  
"Already?" Steve was disappointed. "I've barely begun to tire."  
  
"We've got to walk back, too," Olivia pointed out as she took the beach blanket out of the backpack, "and you've got the whole rest of the day ahead of you. Besides, I thought since it was such a beautiful day we could sit on the beach and chat some. Maybe get to know each other a little better."  
  
"I suppose," Steve conceded, "but when I said on the phone that we could do something else on the beach, I didn't mean talk."  
  
Olivia giggled a little as she shook out the blanket. "Do you want to sit with me, or should I unfold the chair?"  
  
Steve considered a moment and said, "With some help, I should be able to get back up off the sand. I think I'll need some help down, too, though."  
  
"Not a problem," she said.  
  
Steve walked to the edge of the blanket and set the walker aside. Then he took Olivia's arm and let her help him walk to the center of the blanket. With her assistance, he sank gently to the blanket and got comfortable. He used the stuffed turkey she'd been carrying as a backrest. Olivia sat cross-legged beside him, took his hand, and held it in her lap. For several moments, she traced the scars there. There were many.  
  
Finally, very seriously, she said, "Being a cop is such a hard life, especially in a city like LA. Why would anyone choose it?"  
  
Steve was silent for a long time as his heart sank. He'd dated other women who couldn't handle his being a cop. He had thought Olivia was different. Instead of answering, he asked, "Does it bother you?"  
  
She looked at him, but his eyes were downcast. She caressed his cheek, ran her hand under his chin, and lifted his face to make him look her in the eye. "Sweetheart, if it were a problem, we wouldn't be here now. Like I told you last night, I'm here because I'm following my heart. I can live with you being a cop. I'll just say my prayers every day and trust God with the rest. I need *you* to trust *me* to stick around. I only asked because I really want to know, why did you decide to be a cop?"  
  
Steve smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Liv. It's just happened so many times, you know? I like someone and we get along great. She says she's ok with it, but then something happens and she's not. I...I don't know exactly why I'm a cop, really. I don't enjoy danger, and I'm not a thrill seeker. It's just so much a part of me I couldn't be or do anything else."  
  
She squeezed the hand she still held in her lap and asked, "What you told me before, about getting into trouble as a kid, was that the truth?"  
  
Steve laughed a bit and said, "Yeah, it wasn't anything violent, just stupid. Dad and I weren't getting along, then, so he couldn't talk any sense into me. I was in that 'I-know-everything-you-know-nothing' phase so Mom couldn't even get through to me. They were at a total loss."  
  
"So your mom was alive then?" Olivia asked.  
  
"Uh-huh. She died about twelve years ago."  
  
"Cancer, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll bet you still miss her."  
  
"Every day." Steve sniffed a bit and continued his story. "Anyway, one day I got caught doing something stupid, dangerous, and illegal. Dad came down to the station and they brought him into the interview room where they were holding me. I was acting tough, like it was just a waste of my time. The officer who had busted me told Dad what had happened and then told him he could pay my bail and take me back."  
  
A silence grew between them for several moments, then Olivia prompted, "And....?"  
  
"And Dad said he didn't want me."  
  
Olivia gasped, "Oh, my God, Steve! That must have hurt. I can't imagine Mark doing that."  
  
Steve grinned, "Neither could I." The smile fell from his face, and he continued. "That's why it hurt so much. He said that he'd rather have me alive in jail than dead on the street and that if I wouldn't keep myself out of trouble, he couldn't do it for me, but maybe the county could. He gave me a hug and a kiss and said he'd visit, but he refused to bail me out. I swear he was crying when he left."  
  
Olivia brushed his hair back and wiped away a tear Steve didn't know had escaped. "Then what happened?"  
  
"The cop who had busted me talked to me for a long time about growing up and taking responsibility for my actions and respecting my parents. He said that it was the hardest thing my dad had probably ever had to do and that if it worked, he'd saved my life. I had a long time to think about where I was headed. I was busted on a Friday night, and my hearing wasn't until Monday afternoon."  
  
Steve smiled again. "By the time I got to court, I was a different kid. The first thing I did was to apologize to my dad and mom. Then I told the judge I knew there was no excuse for what I had done and that it would never happen again. I explained how and why I had decided to straighten up, and I asked my parents to help me. They agreed, the judge let me go with a light sentence that seemed like torture to a kid like me, and he assigned the cop who busted me to check in on me now and then and report on my progress."  
  
Olivia gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "Somehow along the way that confused kid became a man of pride, integrity and guts, huh?"  
  
Steve gave her a peculiar look and said, "Yep. That's what P.I.G. stands for among cops."  
  
She kissed his hand and said, "I know that. I used to date a cop, remember?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Well, I don't really know exactly when I decided to join the force," Steve continued, "but it's always felt right. It fits me like a good suit, you know?"  
  
Olivia smiled and said, "Yes, I think I do."  
  
Steve an Olivia spent hours talking that day. He found out that her favorite color was not green but yellow, and she only wore green because it brought out her eyes. He told her about his mom and his sister Carol, and she regaled him with stories of her childhood. They tried several times to make out, but every time they got started, Olivia started to giggle. She learned that Steve's grandfather had disappeared when his dad was only ten and that Steve had never known the man, but that just last year they had discovered that he'd been murdered by another cop who had been paid to cover up the adulterous affair of a powerful newspaper publisher and to kill the publisher's mistress. She told him how one day when she was eleven and looking for old family photos for a school project, she found a suicide note written by her grandfather who had never recovered from his experiences in World War II.  
  
"That's why Daddy didn't want the boys to enlist during Viet Nam. He and Mama and the three oldest boys gave blood as often as they were able, and we flew the flag all the time. Once a month we all wrote and sent "Any Serviceman" letters to soldiers we didn't even know, but he forbade the boys to sign up."  
  
Steve nodded his understanding, "My dad wasn't thrilled when I signed up, but he was proud of me."  
  
"Well, Daddy couldn't stop the boys. I was just three years old when Benny, my oldest brother signed up on his eighteenth birthday. Daddy went nuts. Threatened to beat him so bad the Salvation Army wouldn't even enlist him."  
  
Steve laughed at that. "You get your sense of humor from your dad, don't you?"  
  
Olivia smiled. "I guess. Benny left in '69, a month before my sister Josephine was born. Daddy wouldn't even say goodbye to him. Then John- John went in '70 and Pauly shipped out in '72. Everything was different after Pauly left. There were only three years between him and Benny, and there were nine between Pauly and Andy. The big boys were gone, and since we were poor, country kids at school, Andy and I took a lot of abuse that Benny, John-John, and Pauly would have deflected. It was my first year in school, and I had never known other children to be so cruel. Every day I tried to find an excuse to stay home. I hated school."  
  
She wrinkled her forehead in thought for a moment and continued. "It's ironic, you know. We had more money then than we had ever had before. Daddy didn't have to support the three oldest boys and they were sending most of their pay home. Daddy actually had some money to invest. He even bought us a television. We got three channels, and two of them were nothing but static half the time. Still, Andy and I were relentlessly teased for being poor farm kids."  
  
When Olivia paused for a long time, Steve asked, "Did they all come back all right?"  
  
Olivia nodded. "They all came back anyway. Benny spent two years as a POW, and that changes a man. John-John contracted malaria, and he was so weak when he came home. Pauly got into heroine over there. Mama and Daddy eventually got him straightened out, but it took its toll on all of us."  
  
Steve wrapped his arms around Olivia and said, "I think Viet Nam took its toll on everyone. I can remember being spit on and called all kinds of horrible names when I came home." He felt Olivia's head nod against his chest and said, "If you need to keep talking, I'll listen, but if it's ok with you, I'd rather change the subject."  
  
"To what?" Olivia asked.  
  
Steve was about to make a suggestion when his stomach growled like an angry animal. Olivia jumped and burst out laughing, and with a grin Steve suggested, "How about lunch?"  
  
She looked at her wrist, and said, "It's about time, isn't it?"  
  
Steve laughed and asked her, "Still no watch, huh?"  
  
Olivia shrugged and said, "I'm still holding out hope that I'll find it." She helped Steve to his feet, gathered up the blanket and shook out the sand, stuffed it in the backpack and headed back to the house with him.  
  
"You know," Steve told her, "one of these days when you start giggling, I won't stop."  
  
"I never said I wanted you to stop, did I?"  
  
Steve stopped in his tracks and stared at her for a long moment. She just grinned and nodded toward the deck. "Who's that?"  
  
Steve looked toward the house and saw a lean blonde woman watching them from the deck. "Carol?" he called.  
  
His sister waved at him and shouted, "Hey big brother! I heard you were home! How's it feel to be a free man again?"  
  
Steve would have given the world to be able to run to his sister right then. They'd had a difficult relationship for a long time, but had made up a few years ago when he investigated the death of her husband. He was so happy to see her right then that he couldn't get to her fast enough. He stopped short at the foot of the stairs. "Dammit! Liv, what do I do?"  
  
He felt her hand, warm and soothing, in the center of his back and saw his sister beaming at him from the top of the steps, and he felt torn in two. Olivia was there, though, to help him. "Set the walker aside and use the rail for balance. I'll be right behind you just in case. If you need to stop for rest, just stop. It's no big deal."  
  
He did as she instructed him, and while the last couple steps were a struggle, he made it in one shot. At the top of the steps, he threw his arms around Carol and leaned heavily on her for support. She stood firm and hugged him back tightly before helping him over to a deck chair where he could rest. He was about to introduce Olivia when he noticed that she had vanished. In just a moment, she came to the top of the stairs carrying the walker.  
  
He impatiently waved Olivia over and said, "Sis, this is Dr. Olivia Regis. Liv, this is my sister Carol."  
  
Steve beamed as Olivia and Carol grinned at each other. Finally, Carol asked, "Do you want to tell him or shall I?"  
  
"Tell me what?" Steve asked.  
  
"Be my guest," Olivia said.  
  
Carol looked at Steve and said, "We've already met."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Olivia said, "Last night."  
  
"Last night?"  
  
"Actually," Carol corrected, "It was this morning."  
  
"*Early* this morning," Olivia supplied.  
  
Steve made the universal time-out sign and said, "Stop! Someone please explain this to me."  
  
Olivia waved at Carol to indicate that she should explain. "Dad wanted to surprise you. I had to work until ten, but he convinced me to fly down from Portland after work. He couldn't slip out with you in the house, and since Jesse had to work early and Amanda had the boys, he asked Olivia to get me at the airport."  
  
"I see," Steve said, though clearly he didn't. "Why didn't you come out this morning with Olivia?"  
  
"Steve, I'd only had about two hour's sleep when you called. Olivia left me a note and some breakfast, and I came along when I woke up."  
  
"Well, how'd you get here?"  
  
"Olivia left me the keys to both her other cars."  
  
Steve grinned. "You didn't need to sleep, you just wanted to avoid being seen in that pink monstrosity."  
  
Carol agreed, "Yeah. Almost as much as I wanted to drive that Corvette."  
  
Olivia gasped in mock horror and put a hand to her chest. "I'm hurt! That 'monstrosity' is my baby!"  
  
Steve reached out and took his sister's hand. "Carol, it's really good to see you. Thanks for coming."  
  
Carol leaned over and kissed her brother on the cheek. "Stevie," she used the name she had called him when they were children, "I'm sorry I didn't do better at keeping in touch, but Daddy kept me up-to-date on your recovery. It's good to see you're doing so well. I wish I could have been here for you."  
  
Steve kissed the hand he held in his and said, "It's ok, Carol. You really couldn't have done anything for me anyway. I had to do all the work myself. Even Dad had to stay away." Steve gulped down a lump in his throat before continuing. "It was really hard for a while, but you were here," he said, tapping his chest.  
  
"Well," Olivia said. "You two can entertain each other for a while and I'll help Mark get some lunch together." She gave Steve a peck on the cheek as she passed him and whispered in his ear, "It's good to see you so happy."  
  
"Thanks, Liv. It was a great surprise." After the sliding glass door closed, he turned to Carol and said, "So, you two had some time to get to know each other last night, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, we talked for two or three hours. She's very sweet and thoughtful. She met me with flowers and balloons, and she's a great conversationalist."  
  
Steve laughed and said, "That she is, and a great story-teller, too, with an amazing sense of humor."  
  
Carol agreed. "She kept me in stitches last night. My ribs were sore from laughing and my face hurt from grinning."  
  
Steve became serious very quickly and said, "Do you approve?"  
  
Carol's smile disappeared as she said, "Stevie, you ask that like it matters."  
  
Steve nodded and said, "It does. I think I'm going to marry her someday."  
  
Carol was obviously stunned. She stared blankly for a long time, then answered carefully. "Promise me you'll remember that anything I say is motivated by my concern for your happiness."  
  
Steve wrinkled his brow and said, "Ok. I promise."  
  
"She's sweet and funny and very attractive, Steve, but I think she's too young for you."  
  
Steve nodded, but said, "She's in her mid thirties."  
  
"I know, big brother, but you're somewhat beyond that. Not to be rude or anything, but she seems a bit immature, too. Are you sure her interest in you will last?"  
  
Steve thought for a while before he answered. "I don't agree with you. I know she's had a hard life, and I think if anything that has made her more mature than most people her age. She's funny and silly and a bit...chaotic sometimes, but I don't think that's immaturity. I think she's made a choice to...be joyful. She's too thoughtful and sensitive, and she's too comfortable with herself to be immature."  
  
"Ok," Carol agreed. "You know her better than I do, so I can't argue with that. Are you sure her interest will last?"  
  
This time Steve didn't have to think. "She's made it clear that she loves me, Carol, and just today she reassured me that she doesn't mind my being a cop. She was engaged to a cop years ago, but he broke it off. There's a long story behind it, and it didn't have anything to do with his job. I think she'll be around for a good long while."  
  
Carol smiled brightly at her brother and said, "Then I hope she makes you very happy, Steve. You deserve it, and you could use someone to lighten you up a bit. She could be just the one to do it."  
  
Steve grinned back at her and said, "Thanks, Carol. That means a lot."  
  
Just then Olivia came back with at tray full of food and said, "Mark's coming with drinks in a minute. So, did I pass muster?"  
  
Steve and Carol exchanged a look, and Steve said, "Uh, what do you mean, Liv?"  
  
Olivia raked her fingers through his hair and said, "Sweetie, it's the family thing. When two people become an item, everyone in the family has to be consulted. Besides, the window was open and I heard words like approve and love. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but hear."  
  
Steve sighed and said, "That's ok, and yes, you passed."  
  
Olivia laughed and said, "Good. Carol, my life is *not* an open book, but if there's anything you want to know, I'll try my very best to answer."  
  
Carol pegged Olivia with a hard stare that made Steve's heart skip a beat. He was sure for a moment that they were going to get into it right then and there. Carol said, "I have one question. Do you love him?"  
  
Olivia looked down at Steve and he smiled up at her. She took his hand and smiled back, "Yes, oh, yes."  
  
Carol smiled again and said, "Then that's all I need to know."  
  
Mark came out with a tray of drinks and sat down to join them, oblivious to the little drama that had just transpired. "Well, what are you all waiting for? Lets eat!" 


	20. Thanksgiving Day

For Jesse's birth date, I used Charlie Schlatter's actual birthdate from IMBd.org.  
  
As far as I know, the President's Committee is purely fiction.  
  
(Chapter 20. November 22. Malibu.)  
  
Olivia wiped away more tears of laughter and continued her story. "...and there was Spike, chasing Mr. Snowy; and Pauly chasing Spike; and Mama chasing Pauly with a broom in her hand taking a swing at him every other step; and Daddy chasing Mama, trying to dodge the broom on the back swing, telling her Pauly was a grown man and she oughtn't be beating him. And in the middle of it all was little Olivia screaming 'Mama! Daddy! Pauly! Stop that awful dog before he kills my bunny!' And that's how my brother Pauly got his last spanking when he was twenty-one years old."  
  
Mark and Carol roared with laughter. Steve shook his head in wonder, saying, "I can't believe he'd do that to you."  
  
Carol raised an incredulous eyebrow and said, "Oh, really? Do the names Nibbles and Whiskers mean anything to you?"  
  
Steve held up a hand and said, "Hey, now. That's different. Your gerbil got away from me. I was using the cat to find him."  
  
Mark nodded, "Oh, yeah, I remember that. Carol kept Nibbles in her room, and you lost him in the garage. Tell me, how did the little guy get so far away from you all by himself?"  
  
Steve reddened slightly and said, "Gerbils can run faster than you might think."  
  
Carol gave him a love tap on the arm and said, "Yeah, especially when you sick the cat on them."  
  
The little group had been happily sipping tea and telling stories since lunch when Mark looked at his watch and said, "Well, it's five o'clock. I have a few last minute things to get ready for dinner. Amanda and Jesse will be here within the hour."  
  
Both Olivia and Carol moved to get up and help him, but he motioned them back to their seats and said, "No, girls, it's all right. I've got it under control. I'll call you if I need you."  
  
After Mark left, Carol poured another round of tea and asked, "So, Olivia, why would an intelligent, gifted young woman like you hook up with a bozo like Steve here?"  
  
Olivia wrinkled her brow. "Is this where you start grilling me on my intentions concerning you brother?"  
  
Carol held up a hand and said, "No, no. It's clear to me that you and he make each other happy." She glanced at their hands, which had been intertwined almost all afternoon. "I'm just curious what you see in him."  
  
Olivia grinned mischievously and said, "I'm not really sure myself."  
  
"Sure about what?" Steve heard Amanda ask behind him.  
  
"What she sees in Steve," Carol said.  
  
The women greeted each other, and Steve seized the opportunity to make his exit. "I think I hear Dad calling me." He took his walker and got up slowly. He gave his sister and Amanda each a peck on the cheek and gave Olivia a more lingering kiss and said, "I'll leave you girls to your gossip. Good to see you, Amanda. Are the boys inside?"  
  
"They sure are, and they're looking forward to seeing you."  
  
"Great," Steve said as he went inside. "I've been waiting all day to hang out with them."  
  
As Steve closed the door behind himself, Carol, Amanda, and Olivia put their heads together and continued their conversation.  
  
"So, Liv," Amanda said, "Carol has a good question. Why Steve?"  
  
"Yeah," Carol said, "and what were you two doing out on the beach alone together all morning?"  
  
"Carol! Amanda! I'm shocked! Don't you think you're both getting a little personal?"  
  
Amanda said, "Yeah, but since you're the only one among us who has a personal life right now, we're allowed to ask."  
  
Olivia blushed, sighed and said, "Ok, but don't either of you ever dare repeat this. Steve doesn't know that a few days after we met, I finally remembered what happened that first night."  
  
Carol and Amanda nodded.  
  
"Ok, ok, get on with it," Amanda urged.  
  
"Well," Olivia began, "you're both going to laugh, but I was first attracted to him because he reminded me of a Great Dane puppy."  
  
Carol and Amanda looked at each other and howled with laughter, and Olivia had to chuckle, too.  
  
"You can't be serious!" Amanda insisted.  
  
"You fell for him because you thought he looked like a dog?" Carol asked in disbelief.  
  
"I am serious," Olivia told Amanda, "and I didn't say he looked like a dog," she continued as she looked at Carol. "I mean, think about it. We met at the hospital charity banquet. He didn't want to be there. He felt out of place, and he was wearing a tuxedo." She looked at Carol again and said, "I know he's your brother, but you have to admit he looks good in a tux."  
  
Carol nodded her agreement, and asked, "But where does the Great Dane come in?"  
  
All three women dissolved in laughter again.  
  
"A Great Dane is a big dog, right?"  
  
Amanda snorted another laugh and Carol nodded.  
  
"And Steve is a big guy."  
  
"Well, Liv, you're the only one in a position to know about that," Amanda said in a suggestive tone.  
  
Olivia blushed crimson and said, "We have not gone down that particular road yet. If we had, I wouldn't tell you about it, and I would thank you to stay out of the gutter."  
  
Amanda waved her hands in the air and said, "Yeah, yeah, continue."  
  
"Back to the Great Dane analogy. Great Danes are beautiful animals, too."  
  
"If you say so," Carol said as she collapsed into giggles again.  
  
"And Steve sure looked fine in that tux. Actually, he looks fine in just about anything."  
  
"He is handsome, but don't let him know I said it," Amanda agreed.  
  
"Well, puppies are kind of awkward, too. Clumsy and goofy and tripping all over themselves because their paws are too big for the rest of them."  
  
"Ok, and what does that have to do with my brother?" Carol asked as she started to giggle yet again.  
  
"At that dinner," Olivia explained, "Actually during the cocktail hour before dinner, he looked so uncomfortable. He was tripping all over himself trying to avoid these two old, old ladies who were hitting on him. He was trying real hard to get away from them without embarrassing himself or hurting their feelings."  
  
"I remember that," Amanda said. "The Byrd sisters. They're two old- fashioned spinsters with tons of money. They give the hospital a generous donation every year, and get plastered at the charity dinner. That wasn't the first time they had taken a shine to Steve."  
  
Olivia laughed, "Poor guy. Anyway, someone eventually distracted them, and then Steve just stood there, relieved, but trying not to attract anyone else's attention. He looked like a kid at the prom who's afraid to dance with his date because he just doesn't know where to put his hands."  
  
All three women started to laugh again. When she caught her breath, Carol asked, "So, you're saying you took pity on him because he acted like a nervous teenager. Is that it?"  
  
"Not at all," Olivia said firmly. "I was amazed that such an attractive man would be alone and that he would seem so self-conscious. It aroused my curiosity."  
  
"Among other things, I'm sure," Amanda added.  
  
"Guttersnipe," Olivia said blushing again as she started to giggle uncontrollably.  
  
Just then Steve opened the sliding glass door and asked, "Hey, Gigglefits, the boys want to know if they can play with your turkey."  
  
Olivia started to laugh harder and buried her head in her arms. For a long time all she could do was laugh. When she finally caught her breath, she said, "I don't know, babe, are you busy?"  
  
Steve smirked at her and said, "Touché. Seriously, is it ok?"  
  
"Yeah, Steve, that's fine." Looking at Amanda, she said, "Your boys are so polite. They're two of the nicest children I've ever known."  
  
"Well, thank you, Olivia."  
  
Carol asked, "Gigglefits?"  
  
The three women had long ago gone beyond acting silly and they all broke down in laughter once again. "I could explain it," Olivia gasped, "but then I'd have to kill him." They continued laughing for quite some time, but slowly came around to a more serious vein.  
  
"So, that's what got your attention," Carol said, "what kept it?"  
  
Olivia became quite serious, and a soft smile lit her eyes. "Oh, lots of things. There's his compassion and kindness, decency, strength, gentleness, determination. When we talk, he listens to me like I'm the only one in the world. He laughs at my jokes. He's a terrible poker player." She giggled a bit. "And a fantastic kisser."  
  
She nodded to herself and said, "He's a perfect gentleman. It is the Great Dane thing, after all."  
  
Carol and Amanda chuckled.  
  
"No," Olivia insisted, "hear me out. Steve's one of the good ones. He's a good man with a good heart, and that makes him like an oversized puppy. He just doesn't fit in a world full of small-minded people who don't care who they hurt or how badly they hurt them. I'm lucky he hasn't already been taken."  
  
Carol reached across the table and patted Olivia's hand. "If I had any doubts about your intentions, Olivia, they're gone now. You and my brother are going to make each other very happy some day."  
  
Olivia gave Carol's hand a gentle squeeze and said, "Thanks." It had been a long time since she had felt as close to anyone as she did to Steve and his family and friends. She could never to explain to Carol how much her words of acceptance meant.  
  
The women continued chatting about inconsequential matters for a while before Mark finally called them into the house for dinner. The table was loaded with good things to eat.  
  
"My goodness, Mark. Aren't you quite the chef?"  
  
Steve, who was already seated at the table said, "Oh, Dad loves to cook, Liv. It's usually pretty good stuff, too."  
  
The table was somewhat crowded, but everyone eventually got situated. Before they began, Mark asked, "Steve, Carol, remember when you were kids and we used to go around the table and let each person say what they were thankful for?" He looked around the table hopefully as Steve and Carol nodded. "I'd like to revive that tradition, if no one has any objections."  
  
They all indicated agreement, so Mark said, "Well, we always used to start with the youngest. CJ, that's you."  
  
Everyone joined hands as the little boy looked at the counter loaded with desserts beside him and with a shy smile said, "I'm thankful for the pumpkin pie."  
  
When everybody laughed, Steve leaned over and whispered to him, "Me, too."  
  
Mark said, "Dion, you're up."  
  
Dion looked across the table to Amanda and said, "I'm thankful for my mom."  
  
Amanda smiled and blew him a kiss.  
  
The adults were at a loss as to who went next. It was either Olivia or Jesse, but they weren't sure whom, and no one could think of a polite way to ask. Finally, Jesse volunteered, "I guess it's me."  
  
"Are your positive?" Steve asked. "If we're going to revive a tradition, we better get it right. You two need to work this out."  
  
Ever practical, Olivia said simply, "May fourteenth, sixty-six."  
  
Jesse laughed and said, "No kidding? You beat me by two weeks. May first, sixty-six. You're next."  
  
Olivia said, "I'm thankful to be spending this holiday among people who make me feel so welcome, not just today because it's special, but everyday."  
  
"I'm thankful you didn't make me ask your age," Jesse told Olivia with a laugh, "and that I have so many people who love me."  
  
"I'm thankful that I have all of you here so my boys can know what it's like to have a real family," Amanda said.  
  
Carol said, "I'm thankful that Daddy made arrangements for me to fly down here so I could see my big brother."  
  
Steve gave her a slight nod acknowledging so many feelings he simply couldn't express. Then he swallowed hard and squeezed Olivia's hand, seeking reassurance. Feeling her squeeze back, he said, "I...I'm thankful just to be here to enjoy this."  
  
There were general sounds of agreement as Mark beamed at them and said, "As the oldest and most certainly the wisest, it is my privilege to say grace."  
  
They all bowed their heads and he began. "Lord, it has been another year full of joy and sorrow, tragedy and triumph. We thank You for the opportunity to gather here today and celebrate all that You have done for us. Our odd little family is growing, and we are grateful for the joy and humor brought to us by our newest member. She's been a delight to us all."  
  
Olivia felt Steve squeeze her hand again as Mark continued. "We all thank You especially for Steve's remarkable and continuing recovery, Lord. We can all see now that You were taking care of him that terrible night."  
  
This time, Olivia gave Steve's hand a gentle squeeze. "As a father myself, Lord, I would like to say I am most thankful this year to be spending this special day with all my children, those of my heart, as well as those of my blood."  
  
Mark wrapped up the blessing, "Bless this food, Lord. May it to nourish our bodies as well the fellowship we share nourishes our spirits. Amen."  
  
Everyone said, "Amen," and began passing around dishes of food. Amanda smiled at Mark, and said, "That was beautiful."  
  
The meal was delicious and enormous, and the adults sat at the table lingering over coffee and dessert for several hours. As Dion and CJ slumbered soundly in the guest room, everyone moved to the living room and whiled away the evening making plans and telling stories when suddenly Jesse fixed Olivia with a glare and said, "You lied about your age!"  
  
Olivia laughed and said, "Did I?"  
  
Hammering a fist into his palm, he said, "I *knew* something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what. Now I know!"  
  
Steve asked, "Well, would you care to explain it to us?"  
  
Looking at Olivia, Jesse said, "You presented two times at a conference I attended my second year of med school. You had spent a year in Europe on that Presidential Blue Ribbon Committee on Health Care Reform, and you'd spent a year practicing in Pennsylvania. Your presentations were about health-care reform and some orthopedic research you were doing."  
  
"So?" Amanda asked.  
  
Jesse turned to include everyone in his gaze. "Don't you see? My two years left in med school," he said as he held up two fingers, "plus her two years already out of it," he held up two more fingers, "make four years." He turned to Olivia again and asked accusingly, "You're thirty-nine, aren't you?"  
  
Olivia smiled and said, "Nope."  
  
"Come on, Liv. Admit it. You got caught lying about your age."  
  
Olivia grinned. "You're right that two and two make four, Jesse, but sometimes they also make twenty-two. I'm not four years older than you, I was four years younger than my colleagues, and I wish you hadn't found out."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Jess, I graduated high school at sixteen. I went into a six-year combined premed-med program that summer, graduated med-school at twenty-two instead of twenty-six like normal people, joined the President's committee, and started my own practice at twenty-three."  
  
"Oh, wow! You were young, then, weren't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Olivia agreed in an unhappy voice, "and I wish you hadn't figured it out. I thought I'd finally put that 'Doogie Houser' crap behind me."  
  
"Wait a minute," Mark said, almost in a huff. "You had some remarkable accomplishments, why didn't you want people to know? You should have been proud of what you had done."  
  
"Oh, I was proud. I still *am* proud, but after graduation, I had a devil of a time getting a job. In med-school, it wasn't a problem. It was a teaching hospital and people were used to seeing young doctors, but when I went back home, it was another story altogether. I was twenty-two and looked like I was seventeen because I was under five feet tall, had freckles, no figure, and wore braces. The next youngest doctor in the county was still twenty years my senior, and nobody wanted to be treated by Pippi Longstocking."  
  
Jesse laughed, "Pippi Longstocking?"  
  
"Let me show you." Olivia went into the closet and got her wallet out of her purse. She took out and handed around a couple of photos. "I was twenty-two in the first one, and twenty-three in the next. The first was taken at Penn State homecoming, and the second was at the White House reception for the Blue Ribbon Committee."  
  
In the first picture, she stood on a huge log between two young policemen who were standing on the ground. Even with the added height log gave her, she was still shorter than both of them, and her hair hung down in two stiff red braids that curled up at the ends. She wore navy blue sweat pants that said, "Nittany Lions" down the leg and an oversized white sweatshirt with a lion's head emblem on it. Her mouth glittered with metal as she grinned at the camera, and she was reed thin. In the next picture, she wore a simple but elegant blue suit and stood on a stage with an older woman and a man in a U.S. Navy dress uniform. Her braces were gone, her curls were pulled up in a tidy pile on top of her head making her look taller, her figure had more curves, and she wore glasses that gave her a more mature, intellectual look.  
  
Steve laughed, "I can't believe the difference. So which one is the real Olivia Regis?"  
  
Olivia shrugged and said, "Both of them, and me, now. What you see is what you get. I changed my attitude when I changed my looks. What I saw in Europe taught me a lot. I grew up literally and figuratively while I was there."  
  
"Literally and figuratively?" Amanda asked.  
  
"I finally hit my last growth spurt. I grew three inches that year and gained twenty pounds. I suddenly had height, hips, and boobs for the first time in my life. I'd say that's figurative."  
  
Everyone laughed.  
  
"I also learned a lot, and it made me more mature."  
  
Steve said, "I want to back up a bit. I have a question about when you and Jesse were talking about the president's committee."  
  
Olivia and Jesse both nodded.  
  
"President of what?"  
  
Olivia said, "The United States."  
  
Steve laughed, "Oh, is that right?" Then he saw the same look she gave him when she told him about driving across the country in her Corvette to clear her head after a rough week in Baltimore. The smile ran from his face. "Did you meet him?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Shake his hand?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"So, all night I've been holding the hand that shook the hand of the President of the United States."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I may never wash it again."  
  
Olivia pulled his hand up to her lips for a kiss and said, "I'd rethink that if I were you, or this hand will never hold the hand that shook the hand of the President again."  
  
Amanda asked, "How did a twenty-two-year-old new med-school graduate get on a Presidential committee?"  
  
"One of my professors knew him in college. The President asked him, but he'd already made plans and didn't want to change them. So he recommended me to represent the interests of the working class and the President took his suggestion."  
  
With mock anger, Steve said, "So, you're one of the people responsible for the HMO disaster we have today, huh?"  
  
With some indignation, she said, "Don't even go there! I was one of three dissenters on the committee. Our opinions were condensed to a one-page appendix at the back of the report. Nobody ever heard about the potential problems we found until the laws were passed and the systems were in place. Then we started hearing all these horror stories about patients dying while they waited for approval from their HMO doctors for necessary tests and procedures. I believe you had one of those cases here, didn't you?"  
  
Mark nodded, "Yeah, more than one."  
  
"Well, now, every time the current President or some legislator steals a suggestion from that appendix of our concerns, he sounds like a genius and is hailed as a new advocate for health-care reform."  
  
Jesse laughed and said, "That's the way it always is with politicians."  
  
"I tell you," Olivia continued her tirade, "that whole experience nearly turned me into a socialist. Some of the countries we visited paid outrageous taxes, and they didn't have the level of health care available that we do here, but anyone who's sick can see a doctor."  
  
"But isn't there a terribly long wait most of the time?" Amanda asked.  
  
"For non-emergencies, yes," Olivia agreed, "sometimes the wait is ridiculous, but there are places in this country where you can't get an appointment with your regular physician for weeks. God help you if you need to see a specialist."  
  
"But, Olivia," Mark said, "you can't blame the HMO's for that."  
  
"Maybe not, Mark," she conceded, "but at least socialized medicine would make the same services…and inconveniences… available to all Americans. People needing medical care wouldn't have to go into debt, and catastrophic illnesses wouldn't bankrupt them. We doctors could treat patients without some corporate bean-counter hovering over our shoulders making sure we practiced cost-effective medicine."  
  
Mark sighed and said, "I hate to sound like a bean-counter, but I have sat in on more than my share of budget meetings and I have to tell you, a hospital is a business, and if we go out of business, things are only going to get worse."  
  
"I know, I know," Olivia said dismissively, "but do you realize some HMO's won't, or at least wouldn't, pay for medically necessary procedures for patients under a certain age because statistically they would live long enough to need to repeat the procedure before they died and it would cost the HMO double the money?"  
  
"No kidding," Jesse said in dismay and asked, "So what are the patients supposed to do, suffer until they're old enough to qualify for the procedure?"  
  
Olivia was on a roll, now. She shrugged and said, "I dunno, but for some of them, waiting that long would cause more expensive complications in the long run, costing both the patient and the HMO even more money. That's only the half of it, though, Jess. That same HMO wouldn't pay for a hip replacement procedure for a seventy-eight-year-old patient I had. She was a competitive senior swimmer. Statistically she should have died before her premium payments matched the cost, so they wouldn't cover it."  
  
"So what happened?" Mark asked with some interest.  
  
Olivia grinned, "We talked to her pastor, and the church took up a collection to help pay for supplies. I matched their contribution and got several of my colleagues to work pro-bono. Davis volunteered to help with her rehab through his high school vocational program, and she competed for eight more years. She won five national championships. Now she volunteers to teach swimming at my old high school. She's ninety-one years old, and in better health than most of us."  
  
Mark laughed out loud, as the photos of Olivia finally got around to him. "I'll bet you were quite a firecracker back home, especially when you came back from Europe with all your socialist ideas."  
  
Olivia smiled humorlessly and said, "They wanted to put me away, but they needed my skills. At the time, there were only about a dozen doctors in the county, and two of them were veterinarians."  
  
Studying the picture of Olivia at twenty-two, Carol asked, "So, have you always had a thing for cops?"  
  
Steve felt Olivia stiffen, but she said, "They...uh...they were friends of mine for a long time."  
  
Amanda said, "Were? Not now?"  
  
Olivia looked at Steve for help, and he just shrugged. "Steve knows all about it," she said. "I don't want to talk about it today, but he can tell you sometime."  
  
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Olivia looked at her wrist and realized that she hadn't found her watch yet. Still, she said, "It's getting late, and I'm scheduled to work in the morning. I better go."  
  
"Olivia, don't go," Amanda said. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Please stay."  
  
Olivia shook her head and said, "It's not that, Amanda. I promise. It really is late. Past ten o'clock, and I do need my sleep." Taking Steve's hand again, she asked, "Walk me out?"  
  
He nodded and laughed, "After that meal, I need the exercise."  
  
She helped him up, and Mark handed him the walker. Olivia said her goodbyes and told Carol, "I want to put the 'Vette in the garage, so I'm leaving you the jeep. Lord knows no one would try to run off with it. If you're too embarrassed to bring it over tomorrow, I'll just take a cab here when I get home from the hospital and pick it up."  
  
Carol laughed and said, "I think I'll survive the humiliation of driving it over to your house."  
  
"Ok, I hope I get to see you before you go back to Portland, Carol, but even if I don't, have a safe trip."  
  
"Yeah, Liv. Thanks. It was nice meeting you."  
  
Steve and Olivia stood out in the driveway for several minutes. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and asked, "Are you sure you want me to tell them?"  
  
She nodded at him in the dark and said, "If you don't mind, yes. They're my friends and I want them to know, but it's just so hard to talk about it. You don't have to tell them tonight, but if they ask, it's ok."  
  
She leaned into him and kissed him gently. He pulled her close and deepened the kiss. She giggled. He moaned. Without pulling away, he said, "We have to get past first base soon, Gigglefits, or I'll never survive."  
  
He felt her lips grin against his. "You have the key to my place. We won't be interrupted there. Maybe I'll even relax enough to stop laughing."  
  
"Oh, I haven't forgotten about the key, but I think I might miss the giggles."  
  
"Then you'll just have to keep me entertained."  
  
She climbed into the Corvette and waited until Steve made it safely back into the house, then she started the engine and went for a drive. 


	21. Final Exam-Part 1

(Chapter 21. December 10. CGH.)  
  
Jesse and Olivia sat in Olivia's office discussing Steve's final medical release. Jesse had initiated this meeting without mentioning anything to Mark, Steve, or Amanda. Steve seemed to be doing remarkably well and had been nagging Jesse to release him for a couple of days now, but Jesse wanted Olivia's opinion before he signed off on the final release papers. It just seemed too early to Jesse. Steve's original goal had been Christmas, and that was still over two weeks away. Olivia had reluctantly agreed to consult, but insisted that the final decision be Jesse's.  
  
Olivia was treating the conversation more like a teacher-student exchange than like a consultation between two colleagues. Fortunately, Jesse didn't mind her didactic tone. He had always believed in learning from the best, and she was the best there was. He wanted all the help he could get in making this decision. Steve was his best friend and he wanted to be sure he did everything exactly right.  
  
Olivia leaned back in her chair, put her feet up on the desk, and steepled her fingers. Looking at the ceiling she said, "Make a list of things you need to evaluate to be sure he's fully recuperated, Jess."  
  
"What kind of things, Liv?"  
  
"Well, consider his job, his lifestyle, his previous physical condition, and the nature and degree of his injuries. What was wrong that needs to be right before you can say he's better?"  
  
"Well," Jesse scratched his head and said, "I guess the first, and most obvious, thing would be a final set of x-rays to make sure all the bones have healed and that everything is still aligned the way it should be."  
  
Olivia took out a legal pad and a pen and tossed them to him. "Write it down."  
  
Jesse scribbled for a second, and then sat chewing on the pen as he thought. "Physical strength and endurance."  
  
"Good," Olivia encouraged him, "What else? What has he had to work on in PT?"  
  
Jesse was scribbling rapidly now, "Flexibility, balance, coordination, posture, and he's had a hard time getting rid of that limp. I want to make sure that's gone for real."  
  
"Right, Jess. Also look for symmetry," Olivia suggested.  
  
Jesse screwed up his face in confusion. "Symmetry?"  
  
Olivia nodded. "One bullet went through his right calf, the other was in his left thigh. A lot of muscle tissue was torn up, but not in the same place on both sides of his body."  
  
"So," Jesse took the thought and ran with it, "the right calf will be weaker than the left and the left thigh will be weaker than the right."  
  
"Yes, and...?" Olivia led him on.  
  
Jesse closed his eyes in concentration, "And if he has recovered the damaged muscles asymmetrically, that will affect his flexibility, balance, coordination, posture, and the limp."  
  
"Exactly," Olivia praised him. "All of that will in turn affect..."  
  
"Physical strength and endurance!" Jesse finished for her. "So, have I covered all the bases?"  
  
"I dunno. Read me the list."  
  
Jesse read the list back to her, and she said, "You need to consider a couple more things, Jess."  
  
Jesse stared hard at his list, chewed on his pen a while, and came up blank. He looked at Olivia and shrugged. She tapped two fingers to her temple.  
  
"Mental state?" he said with surprise. "But, Liv, the department will have him talk to one of their psychologists."  
  
"Yeah, Jess," Olivia agreed, "but only to make sure he's fit for duty. Believe me, a cop can be certified fit for duty and still have a lot of problems. I ought to know."  
  
"Yeah. Steve told me what happened to you."  
  
Olivia frowned, and said, "That's a little beside the point, but yeah, that's exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about. As Steve's primary physician and best friend, you're the only one in a position to make sure he's really ok. Just as importantly, you'll need to make sure he feels confident that he's recovered."  
  
"Liv, he's been pestering me for three days to give him his walking papers. He believes he's recovered."  
  
"Maybe," she conceded, "but maybe he just wants to believe it so badly he's putting on a show hoping it will become fact. If he doesn't believe he's better, he'll continue having problems after he's released. This has taken almost four months of his life from him, Jess. You have to help him prepare for the transition back to a normal life."  
  
"How do I do that?" Jesse asked.  
  
Olivia shrugged. "I don't know, but you can't release him until you're sure he's recovered in his mind and in his heart as well as in his body."  
  
Jesse nodded to indicate his understanding and handed the pen back to her.  
  
Olivia looked at the mangled pen and made a face. "Keep it."  
  
"Oh, yeah, I guess so. I do that when I'm thinking. Sorry."  
  
"Don't sweat it."  
  
"Ok, thanks, Liv. I'll check in with you again if I need more help." He stood and headed for the door.  
  
"Not a problem, and Jess," she waited for him to turn back and look at her, "If I had any doubts, I never would have asked you to take over. You've been all over this."  
  
Jesse grinned. She'd given his confidence a tremendous boost with her encouragement. "Thanks, Liv, I'll keep you posted."  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse looked through the window of the PT room and saw Steve and Davis waiting for him. He took a deep breath to calm the creatures scrambling around in his stomach. He hadn't been so nervous about examining a patient since med-school, but this time he was responsible for his best friend's welfare and he didn't want to blow it. He took consolation in the fact that Steve had to be at least as nervous as he was.  
  
Finally, he pushed through the doors and strode quickly over to Steve and Davis. He shook Davis's hand and gave Steve a pat on the back. "Are you ready to get started?"  
  
Steve nodded and said, "Ready as I'll ever be. I can't believe this is it."  
  
With a confidence he didn't feel, Jesse said, "This *should* be it, but let's make sure everything's copacetic before we cross the t's and dot the i's and get you out of here."  
  
"Let's do it," Steve said with a nervous grin.  
  
"You'll be glad to know," Jesse began, "that I've looked at your final set of x-rays and everything appears to be ok there. Davis has also filled me in on the work you've been doing in the weight room, and while you're not up to the level you were before the shooting, I'm convinced that you're as strong as you need to be. Today I'm going to put you through your paces, so to speak, and make sure you've developed your stamina, balance, flexibility, and coordination to the point where you can continue working out on your own until you're back to a hundred percent."  
  
Steve nodded again and said, "So, what exactly is going to happen?"  
  
"Well, I've decided that the first thing you're going to do is get a good workout. It'll be basically the same things you've been doing in PT, but maybe a little more demanding." He squeezed his friend's shoulder firmly and looked him in the eye. "Don't worry if it starts to seem too hard, Steve. I'm trying to find out what your limits are so I can be sure you'll be able to do everything you need to when you start preparing to go back to work. I want to be sure you won't hit a wall and get discouraged. If it gets to be too much, say so. Nothing says we have to do this all today."  
  
"All right," Steve said enthusiastically, "Where do we start?"  
  
Jesse had deliberately planned the workout to be grueling. He started Steve with a few easy stretches to help him limber up, then put him on a treadmill. At first, the pace was easy to give him time to warm up, but Jesse quickly had Davis increase the speed of the treadmill to a rapid jog and then an all out run. Soon Steve felt he was struggling. He was breathing hard and his right leg was burning painfully. Finally, he had to tell Jesse to slow down.  
  
"Jess, I can't take it any more. I've got to slow down."  
  
With Jesse's approval, Davis adjusted the speed of the treadmill to a more manageable pace, and gave Steve time to catch his breath. "Come on, Sloan. You can do it if you want it bad enough."  
  
Jesse encouraged him, "Keep going for a while, Steve. I want to see how much you can do. Remember, we're looking for the limits of your endurance."  
  
Steve continued at an easy jog for several more minutes, but all the time, his right leg was hurting more and more. He was determined to go on until Jesse stopped him. He was not going to give up. Jesse slowly increased the pace of the treadmill, again, but Steve soon told him that he could go no faster. Jesse was concerned that his friend was getting discouraged, but he wanted to show Steve that he could do more than he thought.  
  
"Just a little faster, Steve."  
  
"No! Jess, I can't."  
  
"Sloan!" Davis barked at him. "Nothing in here is a question of can or can't. It's all a matter of will. Where's yours?"  
  
"Please don't," Steve pleaded, "it hurts."  
  
He felt awful to do so, but Jesse motioned Davis to increase the speed anyway. Much to his surprise, in spite of the pain in his right leg, Steve was able to pick up the pace. After a couple of minutes, Jesse had Davis slow the treadmill down to a jog, then to a walk so Steve could cool down properly.  
  
"So," Steve asked uneasily, "how'd I do?"  
  
"Better than I expected," Jesse told him.  
  
"What exactly does that mean? How long? How fast? How far?"  
  
As Davis wiped the memory from the treadmill, Jesse sighed and said, "That doesn't matter right now, Steve, and I'm not going to tell you. All that matters is that you did well enough to convince me that you've gotten a good deal of your stamina back. Now, let's go over to the steps."  
  
"Come on, Jess, I need a breather."  
  
"Not yet, buddy. I told you, this isn't going to be easy."  
  
"It feels like you're trying to set me up to fail, Jess," Steve said angrily.  
  
Davis gave him a stern look, and said, "You need to calm down, Sloan. Getting mad at the Doc won't help anything."  
  
Jesse told him soothingly, "If you can't do this, we'll try again in a few days, but there is no *way* on God's good green earth I am releasing you if you can't convince me you're ready."  
  
Jesse was surprised to see Steve struggling not to break into a grin as he reluctantly walked over to the steps that sat in the middle of the PT room. It was plain that Steve was trying to stay angry, but something had tickled his funny bone.  
  
Jesse held up a stopwatch and told him simply, "Up and down as quick as you can until I tell you to stop. Count how many trips you make." He pushed the button to start the timer.  
  
As Steve started running the steps, humor overtook the anger on his face and in his eyes, and Jesse finally felt compelled to ask, "Ok, what's so funny?"  
  
In huffs and puffs, Steve told him, "Olivia's…rubbing off…on you."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Davis, who was leaning against some mats nearby, said, "You said, 'no way on God's good green earth.' That's one of her expressions."  
  
Steve didn't have the breath to speak, but he nodded to indicate that Davis was right.  
  
Jesse laughed at himself, and said, "I guess it is, huh? She sure has a way with words, doesn't she?"  
  
Steve nodded and Davis said, "Oh, yeah. She'll kill me if she finds out I told you guys, but she's a published poet and she has a novel being considered by a major New York publishing house."  
  
"No kidding," Jesse said in admiration. "Davis, is there anything she doesn't do?"  
  
Davis thought for a minute and said, "Well, I know she doesn't ski, she doesn't dust or cut the grass, she doesn't golf--calls it a good walk spoiled--and she doesn't know how to balance a checkbook."  
  
Jesse laughed.  
  
Steve was on his twentieth trip up the stairs, and he started counting aloud.  
  
"I understand you followed her out here, Davis. Why?"  
  
"Twenty-one."  
  
Davis answered, "She's the best there is, and I wanted to learn from her."  
  
"Twenty-two."  
  
"I guess you two have been pretty good friends for a while, huh?"  
  
"Twenty-three."  
  
"Probably the same way you and the big guy's dad are friends," Davis said, indicating Steve with a jerk of his head.  
  
"Twenty-four."  
  
"How long have you known each other?"  
  
"Twenty-five," Steve said with some finality.  
  
"Five more," Jesse told him.  
  
"Jess!"  
  
"Five more."  
  
With a groan, Steve started up the steps again.  
  
Davis pulled up his left pant leg to show a long scar and said, "I was fifteen years old when she put this back together for me. Some three- hundred-pound freshman landed a knee on it in football practice and snapped it like a dry stick. Just like Theisman. I thought my game was over, but she promised me I'd play again. She tutored me while I was in the hospital so I wouldn't get behind in school, and she taught me about anatomy and medicine when I got bored with regular school subjects. She gave me my first medical book, Gray's Anatomy."  
  
Steve finished his last five reps, and Jesse motioned him over to a low balance beam. "Step up, walk to the end, and walk back. Do it twice."  
  
"When I got back to school, I found out I was ahead of all my classes. I went from C's and D's to A's and B's, and I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I played football through high school, and kept my grades up. I gave up competitive athletics when I got to college, though, to have more time for school."  
  
Jesse watched with concern as Steve struggled to maintain his balance, but much to Jesse's relief, he made it to the end of the beam and back twice.  
  
"When my dad died, she offered to finish paying for med-school, but I said no."  
  
As Steve finished his second trip back on the beam, Jesse offered him an arm to help him down. Steve accepted gratefully.  
  
"Have a seat and take a breather," Jesse said, indicating the beam.  
  
"Thanks," Steve said, "It's about time. So, am I a free man?"  
  
"Not yet," Jesse told him. "When you catch your breath, I want you to go in the examination room across the hall and change into the gown I put there. You've finished the hard part, but you're only half done."  
  
"Oh. What else do you want to do?" Steve asked with some apprehension.  
  
Jesse patted him on the back and said, "It's nothing to worry about, Steve, just a basic physical to check reflexes, flexibility, and the like."  
  
Steve nodded and asked Davis, "I know Olivia's quite wealthy, Davis, why didn't you accept her offer?"  
  
Davis shrugged and said, "I don't know. At the time, I had it in my head that it was something I had to handle myself. When I started having second thoughts, it seemed bad form to ask for the gift I'd already rejected. So, I did the next best thing. I followed her wherever she went and learned whatever I could."  
  
Steve nodded, "I guess I understand that." He stood up and headed toward the door. "Give me five minutes, ok, Jess?"  
  
"Ok, Steve. See you in five."  
  
Jesse and Davis watched as Steve limped painfully out of the PT room. Halfway across the floor, he tried to hide the limp, but was only partly successful.  
  
Jesse said quietly to Davis, "That limp's still pretty pronounced."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"That can't be good."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Damn."  
  
"Yep." 


	22. Final Exam-Part 2

(Chapter 22. December 10. CGH.)  
  
Steve sat in the exam room, shivering and sweating. He was still perspiring from the workout, and the exam room, like most places in the hospital, was uncomfortably cool. He had been so afraid he would blow it during that workout Jesse had put him through, but to his amazement, he did everything he was supposed to do. Now all he had to do was get cleanly through this last little bit and he was officially well again. He wished he hadn't limped out of the PT room the way he did. He knew Jesse must have seen it, and he knew it could be all the reason Jesse needed to refuse to release him.  
  
He deeply regretted what he'd said about Jesse's trying to make him fail. He knew better. Jesse only wanted what was best for him. He might be a bit over-protective, but Steve knew all Jesse was trying to do was to be sure he'd really recovered. He made a mental note to apologize as soon as the opportunity arose. He wished he knew what Jesse would be looking for now. He needed to get this over with and leave the hospital with that medical release.  
  
He was just beginning to relax when Jesse walked in. Suddenly all his nerves were highly attuned again and he felt painfully tense. Jesse saw right away that he was nervous and said, "Steve, relax. If you're ready, I'll sign the release, and if you're not, we'll try again in a week or so."  
  
Steve took a couple deep breaths and nodded. "It's just been so long, Jess."  
  
Jesse put a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, "I know, buddy, but you're almost there. You're recovery really has been a miracle, you know."  
  
"So I've been told," Steve smiled weakly.  
  
Jesse took the opening to explore Steve's mental state. As he checked his vitals and reflexes and examined his nicely healed wounds, he probed gently. "Other than being nervous about all this, how have you been feeling lately?"  
  
Steve thought for a moment and said, "Good. I can run a little farther and work out a little longer everyday. It's good to see the progress."  
  
"You know, Steve, we're all proud of you. I hope you're proud of yourself, too."  
  
"Thanks, Jess, I am. I've never had to work harder in my life. I know I've accomplished a lot, but I want more. I want to go back to what I was before."  
  
Jesse hopped up on the high stool facing the exam table. "I can't imagine how difficult this has all been for you, Steve. You must be so angry at the guy who shot you."  
  
Steve was silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke there was a quaver in his voice. "I...I've gone through every conceivable human emotion in the past four months, sometimes all of them at once. I was angry sometimes, but mostly I bounced back and forth between scared and hopeful."  
  
In a very soft voice, Jesse asked, "Have you thought about what went wrong? What would you have done differently?"  
  
Steve closed his eyes. He was clearly struggling with some powerful emotion. Finally, he said, "I don't even remember what happened, Jess. One minute Cheryl and I were doing everything we were supposed to do, the next minute I'm waking up to the sound of Olivia calling my name in the ER. It was supposed to be an easy bust, but I guess everything went to hell fast."  
  
Jesse nodded and said, "Your dad mentioned that you'd been having panic attacks. Want to tell me about that?"  
  
Steve shrugged and said, "There's not much to tell. I had a lot of uncertainty about a lot of things. I talked to him about it, and he put my mind at ease. I haven't had an episode since Thanksgiving Day."  
  
"Any nightmares?"  
  
Steve nodded hesitantly, "There've been a few, but I just wake up, roll over and go back to sleep."  
  
"Do you think you can face the same situation again?"  
  
Steve gave a weak laugh and said, "Jess, it's part of my job."  
  
"You didn't answer my question."  
  
With complete certainty and no hesitation, Steve answered, "I will go back to work. I will do my job. It's who I am and what I do, Jess, and if all of this has changed me in any way, it's only made me stronger. Now can we please get this exam over?"  
  
Jesse grinned and said, "Let's do it."  
  
He had Steve walk across the room and back a couple times, asked him to bend over and touch his toes, and to squat and touch the floor. They were all simple motions and Steve executed them with no trouble until the last time he touched the floor. His right calf muscle spasmed and he cried out in pain.  
  
"Aughhh!"  
  
Jesse helped him to the table and massaged the cramp away. "I was waiting for that to happen, you know?"  
  
"You were?"  
  
"Uh-huh. I saw the way you were limping when you left PT, and I saw you try to cover it up. It has me worried, Steve."  
  
"Me, too. That's why I tried to hide it." Steve felt utterly dejected as he sat with his legs dangling from the exam table. He'd come so close, but wasn't quite ready. He'd tried so hard to get rid of his limp, but he couldn't get the weakness and the accompanying pain to go away. He watched with alarm as he saw the concern in Jesse's face deepen. When Jesse stepped back and stared hard at his legs, he got scared.  
  
"Jess, what's wrong?"  
  
"I...uh...I'm not sure it's anything, Steve. I need an expert's opinion." He stepped over to the phone and placed a call. "Liv? Jesse. I'm with Steve in the exam room across from PT. I need you to come see something…Yeah, I know what you said, Liv, but I wasn't expecting this. Could you get his x-rays and bring them along, too…Ok, we'll be waiting."  
  
With rising panic Steve demanded, "Jess, what is it? What's wrong with me?"  
  
Jesse took a hold of Steve by both shoulders, looked him square in the eye, and said, "I don't have enough background to hazard a guess. It may be nothing. Let's just wait for Liv."  
  
Trying to remain calm, Steve decided to take the opportunity to apologize.  
  
"Jess, I know you weren't trying to set me up to fail. I'm sorry I said that, I just really, really need to do this now."  
  
Jesse smiled and said, "I realize that, Steve. I hope everything works out for you today. If it doesn't happen today, though, it will happen tomorrow or the next day. What I'm trying to say is I believe you have the strength to come all the way back from this. You're the strongest person I have ever known, and you'll be ok."  
  
Steve nodded and said, "Thanks, Jess. That means a lot."  
  
There was a knock at the door, and Jesse jumped down from the stool and opened it. "Liv, that was quick." Over his shoulder he said, "Be right back, Steve," and he stepped out into the hall.  
  
While he waited, Steve thought about everything he had gone through. He should have been dead, but by some miracle, he wasn't. If he'd been allowed to survive six bullets and a ten-foot fall, surely he would be allowed to go back to his old life in time. Maybe this had all been some kind of test. If that were the case, he would pass it. Jess was right. If it didn't end today, it would tomorrow or the next day or the one after that.  
  
The door opened and Olivia and Jesse came back in. As Jesse went to put up his x-rays, Olivia fixed her gaze on him. As always, he got lost for a moment in those silver-green eyes.  
  
"Hey, Steve," she said gently, "Jesse tells me you did really well on the steps and the treadmill today."  
  
Steve smiled slightly, "I really didn't think I had it in me. I didn't know I had gotten that strong again. Why did he call you down here, Liv? What's wrong with me?"  
  
"If there is anything wrong, Steve, I'll know in about five minutes, and you'll know right after that, ok?"  
  
Steve nodded, and fought down the lizards that were trying to crawl up out of his stomach. While Jesse and Olivia pored over his x-rays, he told himself over and over, "It's going to be ok, it's going to be ok."  
  
He heard Jesse mutter, "I still don't see it in the x-rays, Liv."  
  
"That's because you don't have what you need to make it show up. The only way you'd see it is if you had an x-ray of both legs side by side, but I did notice it as soon as I walked in."  
  
"So, I'm not imagining things."  
  
"I'm afraid not, Jess." Olivia came over to the exam table and said, "Steve, I need you to do a couple of things for me."  
  
"What's wrong with me, Liv?"  
  
"Give me three more minutes, Steve. I need you to lay flat on your back on the table."  
  
Still fighting panic, Steve did as he was told while Jesse watched intently.  
  
"OK, now I want you to point and flex both feet a few times."  
  
He did, and the fourth time he pointed his feet, his right calf started to spasm again. He moaned in pain, and Olivia started to massage it away immediately. Her touch calmed him tremendously.  
  
"Is it gone?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Ok, sit up and hang your feet over the side again. Rotate your feet to the left..."  
  
He did so with no trouble.  
  
"...and the right."  
  
After a few seconds, he caught another cramp. Again, Olivia massaged it until it was gone.  
  
"Now, stand up, please, and stand on your left foot."  
  
"Liv, this is getting ridiculous."  
  
"You're almost done, Steve, just do as I ask."  
  
With a frustrated sigh, he stood on his left foot. It seemed like forever until she told him to switch to his right. On his right foot, he couldn't keep his balance. As hard as he tried, he kept wobbling and putting his left foot down to keep from falling.  
  
"All right, Liv," he said, "something's weird. Will you tell me what's going on now?"  
  
"I'll show you." She slapped the exam table and told him, "Sit up here and stretch your legs out on the table in front of you."  
  
When he was situated, Olivia took hold of his ankles and firmly held his feet together for a minute. When she let go she said, "Look at your feet and tell me what you see."  
  
With a nervous half grin, Steve said, "Toe-jam?"  
  
Olivia laughed and said, "Well, besides that."  
  
He studied his feet for a moment and with wonder in his voice said, "The right one's turned in a little. I'm pigeon-toed."  
  
"That's right," she said and ran a delicate hand down the inside of his lower leg. "The muscles in here are stronger," she said and ran her hand down the outside of his leg, "than the muscles out here. They're pulling you foot up and in and causing your muscle spasms, your limp, and your balance problems."  
  
As she walked around the table to sit on the stool, Steve turned to face her and sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the table. He looked down at his swinging legs and noticed the deformity was even more pronounced when they were hanging loose. Jesse was sitting in a chair in the corner.  
  
With a knot in his gut he asked, "Can you fix it?"  
  
Olivia hiked the stool closer to him and said, "Give me your foot."  
  
When he lifted his foot for her, she held his leg with her left hand supporting his knee and his foot resting in the crook of her arm. Jesse stood up to watch over her shoulder as she said, "This is going to get uncomfortable. You need to let me know how it feels, and if it hurts, how bad and where."  
  
When he nodded, she gently straightened his foot and pushed it to a flexed position. Steve took in a breath and squirmed.  
  
"Jesse, note the time. Talk to me, Steve," Olivia ordered.  
  
"It's tight," he said, "especially on the inside, and it burns a little, but it doesn't really hurt."  
  
"Ok," Olivia said, "we're just going to wait a few minutes and see what develops." When she saw him wince a little later, she asked, "What is it?"  
  
Steve squirmed again, but she held on. "It's really burning, and it's starting to ache. The pain's running down the back of my leg, too, now."  
  
"Your Achilles tendon?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Can you tolerate it a little longer?"  
  
He took a breath and nodded again, so she continued to hold his foot and leg in the same position. Jesse, realizing they might be a while, pulled his chair up and sat near the corner of the table. The burning eventually subsided, but the ache continued to worsen. Suddenly Steve yelped as his leg cramped up on him again. He jumped and tried to pull away, but Olivia held on and moved with him so that he couldn't ease the pressure on his leg.  
  
"Liv, it hurts!"  
  
"I know it does, Steve, but try to hang in there. Be still and let it work itself out."  
  
He did the best he could to do what she asked, but he kept trying to shift position to ease the pain. Nothing he did worked, though, because Olivia kept moving with him and kept the pressure on his leg. Every now and then, a moan of pain would escape him, and Olivia would murmur soothing words and try to calm him, but she wouldn't let go or massage away the cramp.  
  
Steve was surprised when the cramping in his leg eventually subsided and left behind a severe, dull ache. Always sensitive to his reactions, Olivia knew when it happened.  
  
"The spasm's gone, isn't it?"  
  
He nodded, "But it aches bad."  
  
"Ok, but can you go a little longer?"  
  
He said, "I guess."  
  
"Liv," Jesse asked, "what exactly are you doing?"  
  
"Finding something out."  
  
"I hate it when you do that," Jesse said.  
  
"Me, too," Steve agreed through clenched teeth.  
  
"Do what?" Olivia asked innocently.  
  
"Sometimes you answer a question with something that just creates more questions," Jesse explained.  
  
"Oh, that. I just don't want to say too much until I'm sure what's going on. How does it feel, Steve?"  
  
"It still hurts, but not so bad now."  
  
Olivia looked at Jesse and asked, "How long has it been?"  
  
"Fifteen minutes."  
  
"Can you go five more minutes, Steve?" she asked gently.  
  
Steve bit his lower lip and nodded.  
  
As the minutes crept by, she encouraged him, saying, "You're doing great Steve. You're a real trooper. I know this is tough, but I know you're tougher. Think about everything you've done in the past four months. This is a piece of cake."  
  
Finally, Jesse said, "Twenty minutes, Liv."  
  
Steve breathed a huge sigh of relief.  
  
Still holding his leg, Olivia asked, "Steve, could you live with this kind of pain and maybe some muscle spasms for, say, eight to ten hours a day?"  
  
"For how long?" he asked with some trepidation.  
  
"For up to a year."  
  
Steve thought for a moment then nodded, "If I could take something when the pain was really bad, I could do this for a year."  
  
"For two years?"  
  
This time he thought for a long time and shook his head, "No, not for two years, unless I could really see the payoff."  
  
Olivia nodded. "Ok, I'm going to let go now. I want you to try to keep your foot straight as long as you can."  
  
In spite of his best efforts, as soon as she let go, his foot slowly started turning in. When it stopped, he hung his head and sighed. To comfort him Olivia put a hand on his back and rubbed in big, slow circles.  
  
"It's all right, Steve," she soothed. "I've got a good handle on the problem now, and I know what you can do about it." She slipped a hand under his chin and lifted his face to make him look her in the eye.  
  
"You know this is serious," she said, "but it's not an emergency. It won't slow you down for long. It's kind of like a slow oil leak, and there are lots of ways to deal with it. You can keep checking the dipstick and add oil as needed. You can find the leak and seal it, or you can let it go until your engine seizes up and give the garage a ton of money to fix it for you, but the important thing is you have choices and you can deal with it."  
  
Steve nodded and said, "Ok, now what?"  
  
Olivia smiled and it lit up her eyes. Steve had to smile back. "Now Jesse and I are going to my office. You get dressed and meet us there. Do you mind if I ask your dad to join us?"  
  
"Ok," Steve said, "I think I want him there."  
  
"All right, see you in about ten minutes."  
  
Jesse lingered for just a minute after Olivia left. "Cheer up, Steve," he said. "If it was bad you know she would have told you."  
  
Steve sighed. "I know, Jess, but when are things going to get easy again? I'm tired of this crap."  
  
Jesse patted him on the back and said, "I know you are, buddy, but all it takes is time. The best part is, Olivia said she could fix this. That's good news, Steve!"  
  
Steve tried to smile back, but it turned to a grimace, "I know, Jess, and thanks for trying to encourage me, but I want it to be over. I want my life back."  
  
Jesse spontaneously threw an arm around his friend's broad shoulders and squeezed. "I know, Steve, and you'll get it back in time. I promise."  
  
This time, Steve's smile was genuine as he said, "There you go talking like Olivia again. I think you might be spending too much time with my girlfriend."  
  
Jesse grinned and said, "Yeah? What are you going to do about it? She has rubbed off on me, and she's probably wondering where I am. See you upstairs soon."  
  
"Yeah, Jess. I'll be there in a few."  
  
  
  
  
  
Amanda breezed into Olivia's office and said, "Hey, Liv, I was on my way to lunch and..." Suddenly noticing the crowd, she said, "Oh... Hi, guys. Maybe...I should come back later."  
  
Steve stood up and offered his seat. "No, Amanda, you might as well join us and keep up to date on the latest developments."  
  
Amanda took his seat, and Steve settled in the corner of the couch beside his dad, grateful to be out of the center of the room. He hated to have all eyes on him. He nodded to Olivia and said, "You can start now, Liv. Everyone I need is here."  
  
Using her model skeleton to illustrate, Olivia briefly explained the deformity of Steve's right leg, its cause, and the problems it was creating. Mark and Amanda had a few questions that she was careful to answer in terms that Steve could understand as well. When she finished her explanation, she waited a moment to see if there were any more questions. There were none.  
  
"So," she continued, "that brings up the most obvious question. What do you do about it?"  
  
"Before you answer that one, Liv," Steve interrupted her, "I need to know for certain we can do something about it. Something effective that will put everything right, not just something that will make it a little better. Do you understand what I mean?"  
  
Olivia nodded. "Yeah, Steve, I know. You're still looking for that one hundred percent recovery."  
  
Steve fixed her with an intense stare and nodded back.  
  
She met his gaze, and it seemed as if everyone stopped breathing to hear what she had to say. "Steve, this injury is always going to be with you. It will affect you for the rest of your life. You'll never get away from it completely, but with a few changes in you usual routines and habits, you should be able to do everything you did before, and no one but you will know the difference. It may not be a complete physical recovery, but you'll have you old life back."  
  
Everyone in the room turned to him as one to gauge his reaction. He thought hard. Her answer hadn't been quite what he'd expected. It fell between the possibilities he had imagined. He was a black and white kind of guy. Either he would recover or he wouldn't. Olivia had just set him down firmly in the middle of gray territory, and without a compass, he was lost. He decided to ask for directions.  
  
"When all of this started, you promised me, if I did what I was told and let God take care of the rest, everything would work out for me. So, tell me. What do I do now?"  
  
Olivia continued in a professional tone. "Fortunately, Jesse caught it early. That gives you a range of options that you wouldn't have had three or four months down the road."  
  
Steve looked at Jesse and mouthed a thank you. Jesse acknowledged with a grin as Olivia continued.  
  
"Your choices for treatment range from mundane to highly invasive, and all of them should be effective, though some may take longer than others to show results. Your last resort is surgery. It would involve reconstructing the muscles in your leg, moving things around and putting them back together, maybe even breaking and resetting the leg. It would be painful and still require weeks of intensive physical therapy."  
  
"You say that's a last resort," Mark interjected. "What else can he do about it?"  
  
Looking at Steve, Olivia said, "One simple thing you can start doing right now is to make sure whenever you're sitting that your feet are flat on the floor and pointing straight ahead."  
  
Olivia watched his face carefully as he followed her suggestion. She must have seen some reaction because she asked, "You can already feel the difference, can't you?"  
  
He nodded, "Especially in my ankle and knee."  
  
"Good." Olivia smiled. "Davis can help you develop an exercise routine to focus on building muscle where you need it and stretching where things have tightened up too much. It will take a while to see results, but if you follow his instructions to the letter, it will do the trick. How soon could you put something together, Davis?"  
  
"We could start tomorrow, and I could have a complete regimen in a week." Looking at Steve he continued, "It will take a lot of self-discipline, but I've noticed you have that in abundance."  
  
Steve smiled and accepted the compliment gracefully with a nod.  
  
"While it might be a nuisance," Olivia continued, "a brace would show the biggest payoff in the shortest time."  
  
"That's why you were manipulating my leg in the exam room," Steve said, "to see if I could tolerate it."  
  
"Exactly, Steve. Since I've been out here in LA-LA land I've gotten to know a few people who fit patients with orthopedic braces, and from what I've seen, they're quite good. If you choose to go that route, I can give you a couple of names, and they could have you fitted within a week."  
  
Steve thought a minute and asked, "Would I really have to wear it for a year or two like you said before?"  
  
Olivia sighed deeply and said, "This is where we come back to what I said about you never being able to get away from this injury, Steve. This has changed your life. I would be very surprised if you needed to wear a brace for more than eight hours a day for about month to get things right. Once your leg is straightened out, though, the issue becomes maintenance."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Olivia opened her desk drawer, took out a small plastic case, and tossed it to Steve. He caught it and opened it. Making a face, he said, "Orthodontic retainers?"  
  
"Yep," Olivia said, "I wore braces on my teeth for four years. When the orthodontist finally took them off, I got those," she said pointing to the retainers.  
  
"I have two sets. I keep one here and one at home. At first, I had to wear them all day, everyday. I was only supposed to take them out to eat and brush my teeth. After a few months, I only had to wear them at night. Then it was just a couple nights a week, then a couple of times a month." She held up her hands and Steve closed the case and tossed it back to her.  
  
"Eventually it got to the point where I'd forget for months at a time, and when I finally remembered, they'd be hard to put in and they'd hurt." She plastered a phony grin on her face for a moment, and said, "When I was a kid, my mouth was a mess. This is a six thousand dollar smile. I didn't want to put myself in a position where I'd have to go through all of it again. So I had an extra set of retainers made, and now whether I'm here doing paperwork, or sleeping at home, I make it a point to wear these things at least a few minutes every day."  
  
The room was silent for a moment. Then Steve said, "That's what I'm going to have to do, too, isn't it? Once you get my leg straightened out and the limp and muscle spasms are gone, I will still have to work on it just to maintain my condition. No matter what I do, we're talking about a life- long commitment."  
  
Olivia nodded, "You won't have to be religious about it all your life, Steve, but if you get too lax, especially as you age, you may find yourself in a position where the only viable option is surgery. That would also require physical therapy and, again, regular exercise to maintain good physical condition. Of course, for you, the problem is more than just cosmetic. If you let it go, it will affect your quality of life."  
  
"But you also said if I do this now and I do it right, no one else will know the difference."  
  
Olivia nodded. "That's right, as long as you keep up with it forever."  
  
"Well," he said, "I know there's no avoiding it, but I want you to be straight with me. Just how involved is this 'maintenance' going to be?"  
  
Olivia shrugged, "Fifteen to twenty minutes a day, two days a week should do it, eventually. You may have to continue to wear the brace a few nights a month, too. It doesn't sound like much, but sometimes it can become a real chore. Nine times out of ten, Steve, when patients who have recovered have a relapse, it's because they quit doing their exercises. Usually, they don't quit because the exercises are demanding, but because they lose their sense of commitment. We are talking about the rest of your life."  
  
Steve started to laugh out loud. First, it was a chuckle, but it grew to a roaring good belly laugh. Tears streamed down his face, and he found himself fighting for air. For several minutes, he went on. Every time he caught his breath and started to speak, he'd begin to laugh again. His father and friends were staring at him, and he knew they thought he was probably having a breakdown, but he just couldn't stop. The sense of relief was overwhelming. Finally, he caught his breath enough to speak.  
  
"You did say fifteen to twenty minutes a day, right?"  
  
Olivia nodded, and said with some concern, "Two days a week, yes."  
  
He chuckled a bit, but caught himself before he got carried away again and explained, "You can't understand how relieved I am to hear that. I guess after all the struggles and challenges I have faced lately, I've developed a pessimistic outlook. I was expecting this to be an all-consuming thing, taking up all my free time for the rest of my life just to maintain the strength I needed to do my job." He started to laugh again, and this time the others joined him. "I know that's completely ludicrous, but it's what I had in my head, all doom and gloom. But, Liv, I like to work out anyway, twenty minutes a couple of days a week will be no hardship."  
  
Looking at her wrist and wishing for her watch, Olivia said, "Well, Steve, at this point you know all your options." Pointing first at him then at Jesse she said, "I think now you need to talk with your doctor and decide exactly what you're going to do about this and about your medical release. You two can use my office while the rest of us get lunch."  
  
Steve's good humor disappeared quickly. As Amanda, Mark, and Davis left, Olivia got up to follow them out. Steve caught her wrist as she walked by and pulled her down to sit beside him. "Can I come by your place tonight, Liv? I'd like to talk for a while."  
  
She smiled warmly and said, "I gave you a key so you wouldn't have to ask, babe."  
  
Just then, Jesse cleared his throat.  
  
"Oh, Lord," Olivia said as she dissolved into giggles.  
  
Steve laughed at her and said, "Go on and get your lunch," then he whispered in her ear, "before I call you something we'd have to explain."  
  
With wide-eyed terror, she said, "You wouldn't!"  
  
With a ruthless grin and a twinkle in his eye, Steve said, "Try me."  
  
Olivia gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "I'll be home by six. How about steaks and baked potatoes for dinner?"  
  
"Sounds good to me."  
  
Leaning close, she whispered in his ear, "Hearing you laugh was like watching the sun rise, my love. It really brightened my day." She gave him one more quick kiss and left him and Jesse alone.  
  
When the door clicked shut behind her, Jesse looked at Steve and asked, "When did she give you a key to her place?"  
  
Steve grinned and said, "The day I went home. Now we have more important matters to discuss. I know you're not going to sign that release. What are we going to do?" 


	23. The Eyes of Love

(Chapter 23. December 10. Evening. Olivia's house.)  
  
Olivia was pinching the dead flowers off the potted marigolds she had sitting in front of the house, when she felt large, strong hands on her shoulders. Reflexively she turned sideways, threw a hard elbow into her attacker's gut, and slammed the back of her hand into his face.  
  
Fortunately for Steve, she had slightly over-rotated, and the blow that would have broken his nose caught his jaw instead. "Liv! Calm down, it's me, Steve!"  
  
She jumped away and turned to face him, taking a defensive stance, her fists raised, and her eyes wild. It took her a moment to recognize him, and when she did, she reached out to him so fast, he ducked away, fearful of getting hit again.  
  
"Take it easy, babe. I know who you are now." With a grin, she added, "I won't beat you up."  
  
Steve rubbed his cheek, wondered if it would bruise, and said, "A bit jumpy, are we?"  
  
"Don't ever sneak up behind me."  
  
It was then that Steve noticed she was trembling. He went to her and put his arms around her. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." He kissed her and said, "You've got some pretty nice moves, there."  
  
Olivia laughed as she quickly recovered from her fright. "They're ok at best. If they were nice I'd have busted your nose."  
  
"Still," Steve insisted, "they're far better than what I've seen from most women who think they've learned self-defense."  
  
"Oh, and just how many women have had to defend themselves from you?" Olivia asked devilishly.  
  
"I don't find that amusing," Steve said, "and you *would* have broken my nose if you hadn't turned so far. I need some ice."  
  
Olivia handed him two pots of marigolds, and picked up two more herself and led him into the house. She led him to the mudroom just off the kitchen where she kept her gardening supplies, and they put the flowers down before she motioned him to sit at the kitchen table. As she washed her hands and prepared an icepack for his swollen jaw, she said, "You're lucky you shouted out when you did. You were about to be hurt much worse."  
  
Steve laughed in disbelief, "Oh, really? How?"  
  
"Want me to demonstrate?"  
  
"Please," he said smugly, certain this wraith of a woman was really no match for him.  
  
She led the way to the living room, where she moved the coffee table aside and said, "Ok, get behind me like before."  
  
Steve set his icepack on the coffee table and did as instructed, barely able to hide his amusement at the idea that this tiny woman thought she could hurt him. Without warning, she launched her defensive action. Her blows were sharp and stinging and landed so quickly he didn't have time to react, but had only a fraction of the power she had used before. She counted each move as she executed it, but even so, Steve couldn't defend himself.  
  
"One!" She spun toward him and elbowed him in the gut doubling him over.  
  
"Two!" As he came forward, her fist came straight up and this time the backhand found it's mark. Luckily, she adjusted her force to avoid injuring him.  
  
"Three!" As he straightened up, her open hand came down on his private parts, she squeezed and pulled, and he yelped in surprise, realizing as he did that it didn't hurt much as she had again adjusted her blows to prevent injury. As she pulled her hand away, she released and said, "I wouldn't let go for anyone else."  
  
"Four!" Her left foot slammed down on the arch of his right and left him hopping.  
  
"Five!" She kicked his left knee sharply and he went down.  
  
"Six!" The sole of her foot to his chest knocked the wind out of him and sent him sprawling on his back.  
  
"Seven!" Her left knee was in his gut and her right foot was across his throat.  
  
"Eight!" A fast punch stopped gently right on the tip of his nose. It was all over in less than ten seconds. He knew if it were real, she could have killed him.  
  
She held her position and lectured him for a moment. "Usually, I wouldn't want to kill the person, so number eight would land here instead." She shifted her fist up between his eyes. "Depending on where I am and what time of day or night it is, you could be looking down the barrel of a .38 snub-nosed revolver right now."  
  
"Usually you wouldn't want to kill the person?" Steve choked out around the foot on his throat.  
  
Olivia nodded. "If it's him or me, I'm going to try to make sure it's him, and if help is a long way off, he's not going to up when my back is turned."  
  
Finally, she shifted off him, and he was surprised to realize that nothing was hurt but his pride. She offered him a hand up, which he gratefully accepted, and with some embarrassment said, "Ok, that was no self-defense class foolishness. What did you do and where did you learn it?"  
  
"It's a combination of moves I learned. Keith and Ted taught me some, and I work out at a dojo." She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I'll never get a belt because I don't deny that I fight dirty. I figure if I ever get in a real fight, I'll be fighting for my life, so I spar the way I intend to fight. I've found a couple sparring partners who understand, and they view it as a challenging way to hone their skills. They haven't beaten me yet."  
  
She handed him the icepack and said, "Sorry I hit you out there."  
  
He laughed and said, "It's ok. I think if you had exercised a little more control, you would have got me on the nose."  
  
"I know," she agreed. "Fear has always been my biggest failure. I overreact and miss the mark when I'm afraid."  
  
"Beautiful and lethal. Liv, when am I going to stop learning remarkable things about you?"  
  
She laughed, slipped an arm around his waist, and guided him back to the kitchen, saying, "Hopefully never. That's the secret to my charm."  
  
Olivia flipped on the deck lights, and Steve stepped out on the deck and fired up the grill while she scrubbed some potatoes and wrapped them in foil. She brought the potatoes out and put them on the end of the grill to bake and stole a kiss from Steve. "You want a salad to go with dinner?"  
  
"Yeah, sounds good. Can you make that honey-lemon dressing for it?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm. How about green beans, too?"  
  
"If you want."  
  
"I do. They're my favorite veggie!"  
  
Olivia set the table and made iced tea as Steve grilled the steaks. "Steve, babe?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"How'd you get here? I didn't notice anyone drive up."  
  
"I had Jesse drop me at the end of the block. You know, you get some strange looks when you're walking the streets of Brentwood alone at six o'clock in the evening. People tell their children to go inside."  
  
"Well, why didn't you just have him drop you off at the house?"  
  
"I wanted to surprise you." He laughed at himself, rubbed his jaw, and said, "It's the last time I'll ever try that."  
  
Olivia came over and looked at his face, "I only apologize once, babe. It doesn't seem to be bruised. Does it hurt?"  
  
"Oh, it's a little tender, but I'll live."  
  
She kissed the spot he had touched and said, "Maybe that will make it better. What did you and Jesse decide?"  
  
She watched the muscles in Steve's jaw work for a minute. Finally, he said, "He didn't sign the release papers. He managed to find someone to fit me for a brace this afternoon, and I'm supposed to get it by Friday. I go back to Davis for PT tomorrow. Next Friday, Jesse will reevaluate my condition and reconsider signing the forms."  
  
Olivia stepped behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. Resting her head against his back, she said softly, "I'm sorry, baby. I wish it had worked out differently."  
  
He pried her hands loose, turned around in her embrace, and hugged her back. "It's ok. I'm all right with it. This is all I need right now."  
  
They kissed until she started to giggle, and he said, "I think our steaks are done, Gigglefits."  
  
Over dinner, the two lovebirds laughed and talked and made love with their eyes. They shared more stories of their childhoods, and discussed their hopes for the future. When Steve asked why she was so jumpy in her own front yard, she became very sober.  
  
"After what happened just down the street, wouldn't you be nervous?"  
  
Steve wrinkled his forehead in thought. "Just down the street?"  
  
Olivia nodded, "Nicole Brown Simpson."  
  
Steve laughed, "Liv, that was years ago."  
  
"So, I have a long memory. With what Ted did, do you blame me?"  
  
Steve put his fork down, came around the table, and sat astride the picnic bench beside her. He put his arms around her and held her close. "Liv, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I never should have snuck up on you like that. I never considered how it would make you feel. That was thoughtless of me. Can you forgive me?"  
  
She laughed slightly and said, "Relax, Steve, it's not the end of the world. I figure you paid for it." She ran a finger along his jaw and laughed again. "Now finish your dinner before it gets cold, I made an awesome dessert."  
  
He kissed the top of her head and asked, "Chocolate?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm."  
  
"Excellent."  
  
As they finished eating the rich chocolate cherry cheesecake Olivia had prepared, Steve said, "You know, Liv. I had something else in mind for dessert tonight. It's absolutely delicious and totally non-fattening."  
  
Olivia giggled and said, "Well, what could that be?"  
  
Steve picked up their dessert plates in one hand, and took Olivia's hand in the other. As he led her through the house, he stopped just long enough to put their plates in the sink with the rest of the dishes, and then continued back to the bedroom. Olivia continued to giggle, and it became contagious. "If you want me to stop," he laughed, "you'll have to say so, Liv. Turning into Gigglefits won't be enough this time. I've been waiting four months for this."  
  
She didn't say a word, but stepped away from him and went to the dresser. There, and on the vanity and nightstand, she lit candles. As their fragrance filled the air, she turned on the stereo, and a CD started playing Pachelbel's __Canon in D__. Then she came and stood before him and let her hair down.  
  
He kissed her softly. "You said you only did this once before?"  
  
She nodded, giggled quietly, and looked at him shyly. "With Keith, the night we announced our engagement."  
  
He cupped her face in his hands. "Did you like it?"  
  
She nodded again. "It hurt, but not so bad. He was very gentle, and very patient."  
  
Kissing her again, he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this now?"  
  
"Do you love me?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," he whispered.  
  
"Then yes, I want this. Tonight. With you."  
  
He combed her long red curls back with his fingers and showered her face with tiny kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, chin, and finally her lips. He unbuttoned her blouse and scattered kisses across her chest. She twined her fingers in his hair, pulled his head up, and kissed him deeply on the mouth. The tenderness within him melted as his passion ignited. He could tell she was as aroused as he was, and she soon stripped off her blouse and bra. As he undid her skirt, she loosened his belt and unfastened his pants. She willingly slipped out of her clothes for him as he stepped out of his pants and removed his socks and shoes. He was thankful for the long shirt he wore which covered the worst of his scars.  
  
He stepped back for a minute and admired her naked beauty. He laughed softly in absolute wonder and said, "You do have freckles all over." Her creamy, cinnamon-speckled skin glowed golden and bronze in the candlelight. She reminded him of a leopard. Her lithe, slender frame and glowing green eyes reinforced the image.  
  
When she moved to cover herself, he caught her hands and held them away from her body saying, "Oh, no, Liv. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Please don't hide from me."  
  
She lowered her head and blushed. He lifted her face to his and kissed her again, then scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He teased her with kisses everywhere. Moving from her face to her breasts, her thighs, and her toes. He lifted her legs one at a time and placed a kiss at the back of each knee. When it made her giggle, he did it again, saying, "I really like that sound."  
  
As he moved over her, she splayed her hands against his chest and whispered, "Not yet."  
  
Sitting up, she motioned him away. Confused, he sat up on the side of the bed but didn't stand. She scrambled to the floor and started pulling up at the hem of his shirt.  
  
"What are you doing, Liv?"  
  
"I want to see you, Steve."  
  
His passion turned quickly cold, but he tried to laugh it off. With a forced smile he said, "I'm right here, sweetheart."  
  
She continued to pull and said, "I want to see *all* of you."  
  
He caught her hands in his and said, "I'm very ugly, Olivia. Please don't make me do this."  
  
She held on to his hands and stepped back forcing him to stand up. She pulled his face to hers and gave him a quick, charged kiss on the mouth. Stepping back again, she said, "Nothing is ugly when seen through the eyes of love, my darling."  
  
"Why is this important to you, Liv? Why are you so curious to see these hideous scars? You've seen them before."  
  
She caught his hand and brought it to her mouth for a kiss, then she pressed it to her cheek. "It's not just important to me, Steve, it's important to us. When I saw them before it was as your doctor. Now I'm your lover. This isn't just curiosity, it's about trust."  
  
"Please, Liv, I don't want to," he pleaded, but she refused to relent.  
  
Fingering the hem of his shirt again, she said, "When this is no longer between us, your scars will disappear between us as well, my love. Trust me to see them and love them as much as I do every other part of you. It will be all right. I promise."  
  
He finally gave in. He could never hold his doubt against her promise. With dread, he lifted his arms and let her pull the shirt over his head. Then he lowered his arms and let the shirt fall to the floor. He stood there with his eyes close, naked and ugly before her beauty, and fought the urge to cover himself. When he heard her gasp, he felt a tightness take hold of his chest. He was sure then that their brief, shining moment was over. Too terrified to open his eyes and look, he assumed that she had turned away. Then something unexpected happened. She tenderly kissed the scar over his right eye. He'd gotten it breaking up a bar fight years ago, when he was still in uniform.  
  
With his eyes still closed, he felt compelled to tell her about it.  
  
She whispered, "I can see you doing that. A guardian protecting the innocent, no doubt."  
  
Then she kissed his hands. "These scars I know you got fighting a forest fire. I see a hero defending his home and those of his friends and neighbors."  
  
Kissing the long scar on the back of his hand that he'd received from Eddie Gault, she said, "You were rescuing a friend from an old enemy, endangering yourself for another. Loyalty."  
  
He felt her kiss the scars where he'd been shot in the chest and said, "You wouldn't give up. You had too much to fight for. Perseverance."  
  
Her lips brushed the scar from Viet Nam, and she said, "A frightened young man stood up for what he believed in. That's integrity." At the scar on his arm where Lily's brother had grazed him trying to kill her, she said, "You gave your heart away and it was broken, but you found the one who took her from you, and made sure justice was done. I see honor."  
  
Finally, kissing each of his new scars she said, "I see courage...determination...strength...discipline...resolve...fortitude...grit ... tenacity...and valor."  
  
When he felt her wrap her arms around him and press her beautiful, naked body against his own mangled flesh, he opened his eyes and stared deep into hers. She smiled that smile that made his world spin and said, "I see no ugliness in you, my darling. What you bear are merely the marks of a good man who has lived his life well."  
  
The music on the CD changed to __Ode to Joy__ as he buried his hands in her hair and kissed her lips until they both were short of breath. Then he hid his face in the crook of her neck and wept. He was too choked with emotion to speak, but knew that later he would try to tell her about all the fears which she had quieted for him. Right now, though, all he could do was love her, and that he was determined to do well. Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed once more.  
  
Time stopped while they made love, and they became lost together in bliss. 


	24. The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA

__Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A.__ copyright 1972 performed by Donna Fargo. If you wanna hear some of it, cdnow has a clip for Real Audio and Windows Media on an album called country hits of the 70's.  
  
  
  
(Chapter 24. December 11. Olivia's place.)  
  
Olivia woke to the golden glow of the rising sun striking her blinds. She and Steve had finally fallen asleep curving into each other like two spoons. The weight of his arm wrapped around her waist made her feel safe and secure. It was a barely familiar, distantly remembered sensation. His body was warm against her back, and the hair on his legs tickled the backs of her thighs. She stifled a giggle for fear of waking him, and slipped out of bed, careful not to let the cool air beneath the covers.  
  
It was barely dawn, and while she had a busy day planned, it didn't need to start for a few more hours. Slipping into her fuzzy yellow robe and her overstuffed elephant slippers, she shuffled to the kitchen. She had remembered to set the timer on the coffee maker the night before, so there was a steaming pot ready and waiting. Once she started some sausage links sizzling in the skillet, she greased and heated the double-burner griddle and whipped together some eggs, milk and vanilla. Then she sliced off some homemade bread, dipped the slices in the batter, and placed them on the griddle. By now, she was humming to herself, some half-remembered melody of happiness and light.  
  
While the French toast was cooking, she got some chocolate syrup and a few strawberries out of the refrigerator. She sprinkled the wet side of the French toast slices with nutmeg and flipped them over. The she rinsed the berries, sliced them almost all the way to the caps, fanned them out, and dipped them in the chocolate. The French toast was done now, and she cut each slice from corner to corner. Fanning the triangles out on two plates, she buttered them, drizzled them with chocolate and real strawberry syrup she had bought at the farmer's market, and garnished them with fresh strawberries.  
  
As she tried to remember the words to song she was humming, she got two stacking lap trays from the cupboard beside the sink, and put the plates on them. Then she took two small glass dishes and filled them with melon balls, bananas, kiwi, and strawberries and poured some honey-lemon dressing over the fruit. As the sausages finished cooking, she slipped off to the mudroom to pick some marigolds, and put them in a bud vase on Steve's tray. The sausages were nicely done when she got back, and she put them on two small plates, freshened her coffee, poured Steve a steaming mug of the potent brew, set the cream and sugar on her tray, stacked one tray on top of the other, and carried the lot into the bedroom, singing, "Skippity-doo- dah, thank You, Lord, for making him for me. And thank you for letting life turn out the way that I always knew it could be." She sang scat for the rest of it, remembering the melody but forgetting the words.  
  
Steve was still sleeping, now with his arms wrapped snugly around her pillow. She was surprised how innocent he looked. She knew from seeing many patients in their sleep that rest often carried away pain, sorrow, and years, but the transformation never failed to amaze her. She set the trays carefully on the nightstand and, still humming her song, woke Steve with gentle kisses at his temple, on his hair, his ear, at the corner of his mouth. When his eyes finally fluttered open, he woke with a smile and she said, "Good morning, darling."  
  
She could see that it was taking him a moment to get his bearings. He rubbed his face and shook his head, and as understanding dawned, the smile he woke with turned into a grin that nearly split his face. "Good morning, beautiful. Is that breakfast I smell?"  
  
"Not just breakfast, babe. Breakfast in bed."  
  
"Mmmmmmmm. You spoil me."  
  
Olivia laughed as she settled cross-legged on the bed beside him, facing him with her tray in front of her and said, "Last night was nice."  
  
Steve smiled widely and said, "I thought so, too. That song you were humming, it must be twenty-five years old."  
  
"My mama used to play it every morning while she and Daddy got ready for work and got all us kids off to school. I can only remember the melody and a couple lines of the lyrics."  
  
Steve grinned smugly and asked, "So, you don't remember the title, do you?"  
  
She shrugged and said, "I'm afraid not. Why? Do you recognize it?"  
  
Steve started to laugh, and said, "Yeah. It's called 'The Happiest Girl..."  
  
"...in the Whole U.S.A!'" Olivia finished, for him. "Well, you must be *so* proud of yourself," she said half-sarcastically.  
  
Steve put his hands in the air as if to show he didn't want a fight and said, "Hey sweetheart, it's *your* song. I would *never* presume to think I was *that* good."  
  
"Yeah, sure you wouldn't," she laughed with him. "So where do you have to be, and when do you have to get there?"  
  
"I ought to call Dad soon, to let him know I'm still here, but I don't have to meet Davis until after lunch. All I need to do before then is get a shower and change my clothes."  
  
She nodded and said, "Ok. I have to go in from noon to eight. It's barely past seven o'clock. You want to hang out here a while, then I can take you home to change? I can drive you in to the hospital, and if your dad's there, he can give you a lift home, and if not, I can."  
  
"Are you sure you want to do that, sweetie? It could mean two extra trips out to Malibu and back. If Dad's going in to work, I could just have him bring me a change of clothes, and I could ride home with him too, then."  
  
Olivia shrugged her shoulders and said, "If it works for you it works for me. I'd love to come out to Malibu, but I have a long day ahead of me, and I'd rather not have to drive back after dark."  
  
"Ok." Steve picked up the bedside phone and said, "I'll call Dad and let him know what's up. Of course," he added hopefully, "you're welcome to come out any way and spend the night."  
  
Olivia giggled and said, "I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you, and I'm not comfortable doing that in your dad's house."  
  
Steve grinned, and said, "Ok. I understand, I wouldn't want Gigglefits to keep my dad awake."  
  
He called home and arranged for Mark to bring him clothes and take him home after physical therapy. Finally, with his plans for the day made, he finished his breakfast with great relish.  
  
"You know," Steve said as he washed the last of his French toast down with a swallow of coffee, "You really are a great cook. That breakfast was delicious."  
  
"Well, thank you, babe." Olivia smiled as she kissed a drop of syrup from his chin. "The only thing I ever thought about doing besides being a doctor was to have one of those cooking shows on PBS. It would be called, 'What Have We Got in the 'Fridge Today?' because that's the way I cook. Open the door, see what's in there, and throw it together. My show would come right between Julia Child and the Frugal Gourmet."  
  
"You really wanted to do that, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah. Does it surprise you?"  
  
Steve thought about it a minute and said, "No, not really. You seem like the kind of woman who really likes to be at home in the kitchen with family and friends." He smiled dreamily and said, "I can see you on Christmas morning, with about a dozen kids running around, and some man who doesn't know how lucky he is trying to stay out of the way. You're making French toast and sausage and eggs and all the good stuff for everyone before you open the presents. You're smiling and humming a Christmas carol, and you have everything you want in life."  
  
Olivia burst out laughing.  
  
"You find that funny?"  
  
"Steve, I'm thirty-five years old. I'll never have a dozen kids."  
  
"Well," he tried to explain, "Maybe they're not all yours."  
  
"And maybe it's an alternate universe." She set their trays on the nightstand and curled up beside him under the covers with her head resting on his shoulder. "It's a nice fantasy, though. If things had been different for me twenty years ago, it might have been the truth today."  
  
"Actually," Steve said, "I'm glad it's not that way. If it were, you wouldn't be here with me now." He kissed her temple.  
  
She turned toward him with a giggle and said, "You know, we have three hours before we have to think about leaving. We could do a lot in three hours."  
  
Steve grinned and said, "We certainly could." A sudden panic rose in his chest, and he sat bolt upright in the bed and said, "Liv, this may be the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. I have to ask you now. I was so...overcome last night...I've never forgotten before, but last night...I didn't...what I mean is I forgot..."  
  
Olivia giggled again and said, "Relax, babe, I was on the pill a month before I gave you that key. It's effective now."  
  
He looked down at her and grinned. "Well, then, there's nothing to worry about, is there?"  
  
She giggled, pulled him down to her, gave him an electric kiss, and said, "Nope."  
  
"That's what you think." He attacked her with a growl, and she pretended to fight back with a giggle.  
  
  
  
  
  
Some time later, they were lying in bed together, facing each other across a shared pillow, and whispering sweet nothings.  
  
"Your eyes are the bluest I've ever seen." Olivia said, "I could get lost in them for days."  
  
Steve told her, "I love to watch your mouth when you talk. It's very sexy, and when it smiles, your eyes light up."  
  
"I wish we could spend the rest of our lives here," she said. Her fingers were dancing lightly back and forth across his chest, and every now and then, they landed on one of the scars there.  
  
Steve caught her hand and pulled it to his mouth for a kiss. He stared at her for a long time and waited for her to meet his eyes. When she finally did, he told her, "I have something I need to say to you, but I'm not sure how to go about it. I need you to be patient and listen, ok?"  
  
Olivia gave him that sweet smile he loved so much and nodded.  
  
"On Thanksgiving, when you left Carol and me alone to talk, I asked her what she thought of you, and she said you were too young for me. You were too immature."  
  
"I can't imagine where she got that idea," Olivia said. "I picked her up at the airport in my jammies, with my hair in pigtails, driving the jeep."  
  
Steve laughed. "Well, I told her I thought she was wrong and explained that regardless of how you behaved, you had seen enough of life to be a good match for me."  
  
There was a long pause that Olivia finally decided to break. "Steve, if you want to try this later..."  
  
"No, Liv, now's the time." He choked down the frog in his throat and continued, "Last night, when you...insisted...on seeing... all of me..."  
  
Steve paused again. Olivia stroked his face and said, "Yes?"  
  
"I'm so glad you did that. You taught me something." His eyes were stinging with tears unshed, and, he noticed, she, too was on the verge of weeping. "I could have gone my whole life not...knowing. I didn't think anyone could look at me again and not be...repelled. I can't really explain what I learned last night. I'm not sure I fully understand it, but whatever happens between us from now on, I'll always be grateful and stronger for it. Thank you."  
  
She kissed him softly and took his hand. She guided it up under her bangs and pressed it to her forehead asking, "Do you feel that?"  
  
He felt a lump under the skin, gasped, and said, "Yes."  
  
She guided his hand to her right temple and said, "Do you feel that?"  
  
Again, he could feel a lump. "Yes."  
  
Again and again, she guided his hand over her face. Each time there was a lump or a fissure that shouldn't be there. Finally, she said, "We all have our scars, Steve. It's just that some of us carry them on the inside, and they are not so nobly earned. Do you understand?"  
  
He nodded. "I think so." Touching the knot on her forehead again, he asked, "How did it happen, Liv?"  
  
She took a deep breath and told him, "I was twenty-four years old, and I tried to kill myself by driving a car ninety miles an hour into the base of a cliff. It was my fourth suicide attempt in ten years. I always tried to make it look like an accident because I didn't want people living with the guilt of knowing they weren't there to stop me. Once I swam in under the roots of a tree in the river and tried to drown myself. Another time I 'fell' from the top of the stadium after cheerleading practice, and once I got roaring drunk and ran the jeep in a closed garage. I still don't know what went wrong the last time, but I'm glad something did. I had a gifted plastic surgeon, and no one but me ever notices, but sometimes, when I first look in the mirror in the morning, I see a stranger looking back at me."  
  
Steve kissed her gently on the forehead and said, "When that happens, look into your eyes, Liv. Everything that's in you shines out of your eyes."  
  
He was gratified to see her smile. Then she said, "I guess I'm telling you this now because, if you can see the ugliness inside me and not turn away, maybe you'll understand why I can look at your scars and see beauty there. Maybe you'll understand better what you learned last night. Maybe you'll find out that you really knew it all along."  
  
He stared into her eyes for a long, long time. Finally, he said, "I can see inside you, Liv, and I see no ugliness there. I see a strength that knows no limit. I see a faith greater than any I will ever have. I see a spirit what will not be beaten. I see a genius for living joyfully. I see contagious good humor. I see some sadness you have not let go, but I also see a light of beauty and goodness that will never let the sadness darken you soul. I see everything I want in this world in your eyes, Liv."  
  
He pulled her to him and held her tight. He heard her murmur against his chest, "There's a lot you still don't know about me."  
  
"That's ok," he reassured her, "I know all I need to know already."  
  
  
  
  
  
It was four fifteen in the afternoon, and Steve was riding home alongside his dad. They had decided to rent a movie and spend the evening together. Mark could tell his son wanted to discuss some important matters by the way he sat so still and quiet in the passenger seat. He decided not to push; Steve would broach the subject, whatever it may be, in his own good time.  
  
When they got home, Mark asked, "You hungry?"  
  
To his surprise, Steve answered, "No, not really. Look, Dad, I'm going for a walk on the beach. I...need to think about some things. I'll need to talk to you when I get back. Will that be ok?"  
  
"Sure son, whatever you want. I'll make some dinner, maybe you'll feel like eating when you get back."  
  
Steve nodded and headed out. As he set the table and prepared the meal, Mark kept peeking out the sliding glass doors to the deck to check on his son. By a quarter to five, Steve still hadn't gone for much of a walk. He just stood there throwing rocks into the ocean. As Mark watched, Steve turned south and started to jog along the beach at an easy pace. He knew he wouldn't be gone long; there was only a half an hour of daylight left.  
  
Mark was pleased and quite amazed at his son's recovery. Just four months ago, he had thought Steve might never walk again, and now he was jogging on the beach. Jesse and Amanda had been right about Olivia. Where his son was concerned, she somehow knew things no one else could. He'd seen her with Steve on several occasions when he was ill at ease or frustrated or worried, and somehow, she had put things right. On the one hand, it disturbed Mark that she could read his own son even better than he could, but on the other hand, it gratified him immensely. He knew Steve was in love with her, and he was glad she was so sensitive to his moods. His son deserved someone as compassionate and nurturing as Olivia.  
  
Half an hour later, Mark heard Steve come bounding up the steps from his downstairs apartment. He'd moved back downstairs only a week after he'd returned home, and had been staying there for the past three weeks. Mark had to smile. Things in the Sloan household were slowly getting back to normal. Soon Steve would be back to work, and, as much as he worried about his son, Mark would be happy for him then.  
  
Steve sniffed the air and said, "Mmm. It smells great. What's for dinner?"  
  
Mark laughed and said, "Oh, so, now you're hungry!"  
  
Steve shrugged good-naturedly and said, "What can I say? Thinking gives me an appetite."  
  
Mark laughed, "Everything gives you an appetite. Do you want to talk now?"  
  
Steve shook his head and said, "I want to eat now, but I still need to talk to you about some things later, ok, Dad?"  
  
Mark nodded, "Ok, son. That's fine."  
  
"So, you never said, what's for dinner?"  
  
"Well, it seemed like you might be in the mood for some comfort food, so I fixed a pot of vegetable soup and some fresh rolls. I figured we could have ice cream for dessert if you want."  
  
"Thanks, Dad, that sounds great."  
  
The two men ate in virtual silence, Steve dedicating himself to the task as if it were a religious ritual, Mark trying unobtrusively to observe his son and divine the matters that had him so preoccupied. Finally, Mark could no longer maintain the silence.  
  
"You're awfully quiet tonight, son. Is everything all right?"  
  
Steve shrugged and said, "Nothing's wrong, really. It's just that what's on my mind doesn't make for very good dinner conversation. After we eat and clean up, maybe we can go into the living room and talk."  
  
"Ok, Steve, but if something's bothering you, putting it off won't make it any easier."  
  
"I know, Dad, but I want to enjoy my dinner before we tackle anything more serious than deciding what flavor ice cream to have for dessert."  
  
They finished the meal in silence, cleared the table, and opened a half- gallon of Neapolitan ice cream Mark had bought the day before. Steve, as usual, took mostly chocolate, and Mark dove into the strawberry. After putting the carton back into the refrigerator, Steve caught his father's eye and jerked his head in the direction of the living room.  
  
Mark gave a silent sigh of relief. Steve was finally ready to talk.  
  
"So," he said, "I guess this is the kind of discussion that will go down better with ice cream, huh?"  
  
Steve smiled a little and said, "I guess, or maybe I'm just tired of putting it off."  
  
In the living room, Mark settled comfortably into the easy chair as Steve took a seat on the couch. He noticed with some pride that Steve made sure to keep his feet flat on the floor and pointing straight ahead as Olivia had recommended yesterday. Steve still hoped to go back to work by New Years, and he was doing everything possible to improve his odds. Mark admired his determination.  
  
They each enjoyed a couple spoonfuls of ice cream before Mark opened the conversation. "Ok, son, what's on your mind?"  
  
"Olivia."  
  
Mark laughed and said, "I figured that, but could you be more specific?"  
  
"On Thanksgiving, when I called you into the bathroom to help me, did you happen to notice my scars?"  
  
Mark thought a moment and said, "Not especially. I was more concerned with helping you to sit down before you fell down, but I imagine they're pretty bad."  
  
Steve nodded. "It's been bothering me for a couple months. I know it seems vain and shallow, but I'd never felt ugly before. It really had me down, maybe I'd even call it depressed."  
  
"Son, you're lucky to be alive. Consider that and a few scars might not matter so much."  
  
"I tried that, Dad, and it didn't help." Steve lapsed into silence again for several moments. When he continued, it was with some hesitation. "I...guess you have a good enough idea what...Olivia and I did last night."  
  
"Son, you're both adults. You don't need my approval for anything."  
  
"I know, Dad, but it has some bearing on what I want to discuss." Again, Steve fell silent. Finally, he started to work his way around to the point. "She insisted...on seeing...everything. I tried to talk her out of it, but I couldn't. When I finally gave in, I thought she was going to turn away from me, but she didn't. In fact, she told me how they were beautiful because they represented loyalty and honor and courage and a whole shopping list of virtues. It was very flattering. She made me feel good about myself in a way that I hadn't been able to feel for quite some time."  
  
Mark nodded, "Olivia has her own way of looking at the world, Steve, and she always chooses to see the good."  
  
"I've noticed that, too," Steve said. "This morning, I thanked her for what she had done for me, and she did the strangest thing. She guided my hands over her face, and told me about some reconstructive plastic surgery she'd had, and said something about her scars being on the inside. She talked about there being ugliness inside her, and she told me that the scars on her face were from a suicide attempt. She said she'd tried four times to kill herself. I know she told you about a lot of things in confidence, but Dad, I need to know anything you're comfortable telling me."  
  
Now it was Mark's turn to be still. Finally, he said, "Steve, I can't volunteer any information, but if you have some specific questions, I can try to answer them. You have to realize, though, there are some things I simply can not tell you."  
  
Steve thought a moment and said, "I understand that. Ok. I know this sounds like an absurd question considering what I just said she told me, but, is Olivia depressed?"  
  
Mark shook his head and said, "Believe it or not, the answer to that question isn't as simple as yes or no."  
  
"Can you explain more?"  
  
"Well, Steve, you know there are two kinds of depression, clinical and situational. Situational depression is a response to one's circumstances. When circumstances change, the depression lifts. Clinical depression is generally caused by an imbalance in the brain and often requires medication. A patient can have good days and bad days, but overall, the depression is not affected by surrounding circumstances."  
  
Steve nodded, "I follow so far, so how is it with Liv?"  
  
"Not being her psychiatrist, I can't really make a diagnosis. I know from what she told me that each of her suicide attempts was in response to a personal crisis. I also know that for a long time her life was so difficult that she was already depressed when these crises came. It could have been either kind of depression, and if it was clinical the crises just pushed her over the edge."  
  
Steve stirred his melting ice cream while forming his next question. "That explains the past. Is she depressed now?"  
  
Mark thought a moment about how to frame his reply. "I'm sure you've noticed that she has a volatile personality."  
  
Steve grinned and rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, I have."  
  
"Well, I think since you've known her she's had some very high highs and some very low lows, but I don't think she's depressed or bipolar. I think it's just been an unbelievably long time since she's allowed herself to feel much of anything, and she's still learning to react appropriately to her emotions. Technically, it's not depression until the symptoms have persisted for two weeks or more."  
  
Steve knew his dad might rebuff his next question, but he had to ask. "Is she seeing a psychiatrist now?"  
  
Mark shrugged and said, "Even if I knew I couldn't tell you that, Steve, and I know you know better than to ask. Given her history, though, I'd be very surprised if she hadn't seen either a psychiatrist or a psychologist at some time."  
  
"What's the difference?"  
  
"A psychologist has a Ph. D. He can listen and counsel you, but he can't prescribe meds. A psychiatrist has an M.D. He can do everything a psychologist does and prescribe medication."  
  
Steve nodded his understanding and studied his ice cream some more before asking, "Would I know if she's depressed?"  
  
"That's hard to say, Steve. Some people hide it well, other's not so good. Some people who've survived suicide attempts speak of it openly to sort of clear the air and let everyone know the truth before rumors get started, but talking about death and suicide is also supposed to be one of the symptoms of a suicidal mind. Some people who are depressed can be very direct and say, 'This is what's wrong, help me.' Others deny it when it's obvious to everyone around them."  
  
Steve groaned in frustration, "So what you're telling me is there's no way to know for sure."  
  
Mark gave his son a sympathetic smile. "I can get you some literature, but the best way to know if someone is depressed is just to listen to her and pay attention to her and be there for her."  
  
Steve nodded. "I have three more questions."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"Olivia keeps telling me there's a lot I still need to know about her. As far as you know, is there anything in her past that could come between us? Will I still care for her the way I do now? Will I be able to give her the support she needs from me?"  
  
Mark beamed at his son, "Steve, you are a caring, compassionate, sympathetic man. You know she's been forced to do some terrible things, but she's done nothing wrong. She just has a lot of emotional baggage tied to a tragedy in her past. You'll have to accept that she will sometimes need your help in dealing with emotions that you will never begin to understand. She'll need you to be there sometimes when you can't even comprehend why she's hurting. I've seen you do that with your friends before. If anything, you'll be that much more able to do it for her because you love her."  
  
Steve felt himself blushing and he said, "I do, you know? I think I have since we met."  
  
Mark grinned. "I've noticed. What are your other questions?"  
  
Steve took a deep breath and found he wasn't sure he was ready to say what was in his heart. He stood and paced, fiddled with some old photos on the shelf, ate the last of his ice cream, and stalled as long as he could. Finally, Mark put a stop to it.  
  
"Spill it, son. There's no sense in putting it off."  
  
Steve sat back down on the couch, took another deep breath, looked his dad in the eye and said, "I never knew I could love anyone the way I do Olivia. I want to marry her, Dad. I want to ask her right after New Years, as soon as I get back to work. Do you approve?"  
  
Mark grinned and said, "You're an adult, Steve. You don't need my permission."  
  
"I know that, Dad, but your opinion matters to me. How do you feel about it?"  
  
Mark reached over and squeezed his son's shoulder firmly. "I think that would be a good idea for both of you. I think you're a good match, and I think you'll do a good job taking care of each other. I like her a lot, and I'm so glad she cares for you. Yes, I approve completely."  
  
Steve breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Good. Last question. Would you help me pick out a ring? I'm not much good at choosing jewelry."  
  
Mark grinned so hard his face hurt. "It'll have to be white gold, all her jewelry is silver, and with diamonds, quality is always more important than size."  
  
Steve grinned back. "I take it that's a yes."  
  
Mark nodded. "Yeah." 


	25. Christmas Morning

Information on yoga contained in this chapter comes from: http://193.2.126.6/eng/content/yoga/asanas/khatupranam/summary.htm#positions  
  
(Chapter 25. Christmas morning. Olivia's place.)  
  
Promptly at eight in the morning, Steve rang Olivia's doorbell. She had invited everyone to her place for a Regis family Christmas brunch, and he had offered to help her prepare it. She had wanted to share one of her family's traditions with them because they had all made her feel so welcome. That afternoon they were all going to the hospital to help with the party in the children's ward, and then in the evening, they were going to meet at the beach house to have dinner and exchange gifts.  
  
He rang the bell again, thinking she might have been in the shower or something and hadn't heard it. He had asked her last night if the brunch was a real tradition or if he had put the idea in her head the time he'd told her about his vision of her cooking for a dozen kids and a man who didn't know how lucky he was. He never had mentioned that he was the man in his dream and that he knew, but simply couldn't believe, exactly how lucky he had been to find her. She showed him some old family photos proving it really was a tradition going back to her great-grandmother of the missing watch.  
  
Steve rang the bell a third time and grinned. He'd found the watch weeks ago when he moved back downstairs to his apartment and had taken it to a jewelry store with an in-house designer to have a matching necklace made. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, and Steve was glad he'd be able to return it to Olivia. The face of the watch was an elongated heart almost an inch long and three quarters of an inch wide. It was made of mother-of- pearl with small ovals of some blue-green inlay to mark the hours. The band was a series of blue-green ovals and mother-of-pearl circles, each set in sterling silver, held together by sturdy links of sterling silver. It closed with a round tongue-and-hook clasp with mother-of-pearl and blue- green inlay and a pearl set in the center.  
  
The jeweler had been impressed with the quality of the workmanship and had told Steve the blue-green shell was paua, a type of abalone that was harvested only off the coast of New Zealand. The colors of the shell varied widely, said the jeweler, and Steve had had to put a deposit down on the necklace and hope the designer would be able to obtain material in just the right shade to make the necklace in time for Christmas. Happily, the shell had arrived in time, and two days ago, he was able to pick up the watch and the new matching necklace.  
  
He was delighted with what the designer had created. Like the watch, it was made of paua and mother-of-pearl. A pale pinkish-white mother-of-pearl heart set in sterling silver hung by two chain links from two ovals of paua, also set in sterling, and it all dangled from a silver choker-length chain. He was certain Olivia would like it, and he knew it would look beautiful around her graceful neck. His grin widened, then quickly turned to a look of concern.  
  
It was unlike Olivia to keep him waiting for so long. It was nearly five minutes after eight and he had rung the bell several times. He could hear it ringing inside the house, but hadn't heard her call out or anything. He knocked, but when he still received no answer, he decided to check things out.  
  
Wishing for his 9mm, but knowing he wouldn't get it back until Jesse and the police psychologist cleared him to go back to work, he made his way around to the back of the house, checking all the doors and windows as he went. The windows were secure, and the side patio door still had the charley bar in place. The back door was shut and locked and showed no signs of tampering, and the windows on the other side of the house were closed and locked. Still feeling uneasy, he came back to the front of the house.  
  
Olivia had given him a key and made it clear that she intended him to use it, so he let himself in. In the alcove, he grabbed the walking stick Olivia said her grandfather had used for years. It was a solid, heavy piece of apple wood, bent at a right angle where it had been pruned. It wasn't his 9mm, but it would certainly clean somebody's clock if need be. He grinned in spite of himself. "Clean somebody's clock" was definitely an Olivia expression.  
  
He suddenly felt very foolish. Here he was, creeping around his girlfriend's house, looking for an intruder, not knowing where or how Olivia was, and he was grinning like a simpleton because one of his many random thoughts echoed her speech. By this time, he had checked the living room and found it unoccupied. The Christmas tree was unplugged, so he guessed that she had made it to bed all right. He gradually worked his way around the interior of the house. The kitchen and mudroom were also clear, as were the den, bathrooms, office, and guest bedrooms. Finally, the only place left to check was the master bedroom and the adjoining bath.  
  
Walking stick at the ready to club an intruder, Steve slowly turned the knob on the bedroom door and edged the door open. Peeking through the crack, he spotted Olivia, standing near the window, silhouetted against the blinds by the golden glow of the sun. She was wearing a pale yellow leotard that showed every curve of her shapely body. She was clearly deeply involved in some kind of exercise, and, not wanting to disturb her, Steve stood quietly at the door and watched. She stood for several seconds with her feet together, arms stretched over her head with the palms touching. Her back was slightly arched, and she was looking at her hands.  
  
From that position, she rolled slowly forward, placed her hands on the floor, and let her head hang down between her arms. She held the position for a long moment. All of her movements were slow and deliberate, and she held each position before moving on. She went into a deep, lunging stretch and held it. Then she slowly raised her arms above her head again, and held her palms together. She went back into the lunge for a bit, then placed her hands and feet flat on the floor, and raised her hips to form a triangle with the floor as a base. Next, she slid back down to lay flat on the floor, arched her back to lift her upper body, and held the position, supporting her upper body with her arms. She lay down again with her shoulders between her hands and her toes tucked under, and she raised her bottom slightly. Steve smiled as he enjoyed the view, thinking that she would blush to find him watching her in that ridiculous position.  
  
"I know you're there."  
  
Steve jumped, surprised that his presence had registered, and heard a chuckle.  
  
"I'll be done in a couple of minutes. This position is called 'caterpillar'."  
  
She straightened her feet and slid back along the floor until her bottom rested on her heels. Her forehead touched the floor, and her hands were positioned flat on the floor directly over her head.  
  
"This is 'hare'."  
  
She rolled slowly upright, keeping her hands above her head and bringing her palms together. Arching her back, she looked at her hands, and held the position.  
  
"This is called 'greeting to the master'."  
  
Olivia let her hands come apart and slowly lowered them to rest on her thighs. Now she was looking straight ahead. After a moment, she said, "This is 'vajrasan'."  
  
She stood up, and stood erect for several moments. Steve could see her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breaths. Finally, she turned and faced him.  
  
"All done, babe. How about a hug and a kiss?"  
  
Steve happily obliged, asking, "What were you just doing? Yoga?"  
  
"Yep. It's Khatu Pranam. I do it at least three days a week, more when I get stressed. I can teach you sometime if you like."  
  
Steve laughed and said, "I can't imagine twisting and contorting my body like that, but if I get to watch you, I'll give it a try."  
  
Now it was Olivia's turn to laugh. "You're not very observant for a detective. In Khatu Pranam, there is no twisting and contorting. Your body stays in a straight line the whole time. The emphasis is on stretching and breathing. For me, it's a great way to relax and get energized. With regular practice, it helps build strength and improve concentration."  
  
Steve shook his head, "I prefer a good run. It relaxes me, and it gives a good cardio workout."  
  
"And shin splints," Olivia added. "So," she continued in a mischievous tone, "did you enjoy the show?"  
  
"Show?"  
  
She bent over and placed her palms on the floor in imitation of one of the yoga positions she had performed earlier. Then she wiggled her butt.  
  
"Oh! That show." Steve felt himself redden. "I have to admit, it was quite a lovely sight. Y'know, you're something else."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I thought you'd be embarrassed to know I was watching. That's why I stayed so quiet. And here you are, showing off for me. I don't get it."  
  
Olivia shrugged and said, "What do I have to be embarrassed about? I was working out in the privacy of my own bedroom. You're the peeping tom." Taking hold of the cane Steve still held, she asked, "What's this for?"  
  
"Well, I rang and knocked at least three times, and you never answered. I was worried."  
  
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Sorry, babe, I must have been really focused on my routine. I never heard you until you came in here." Grabbing Steve's arm and lifting his wrist to look at his watch, she continued. "So, it's eight fifteen. I'm going to have to shower fast if we're to have brunch ready by nine thirty." With a suggestive grin, she asked, "Want to join me?"  
  
"I'd love to. Do you mean it?"  
  
With a sigh of regret, she told him, "Actually, I was hoping you'd set the table while I washed up, but later today, who knows?"  
  
Steve laughed and said, "Aren't you the tease?"  
  
"Well, love, you just bring out the devil in me. By the way, I love the sweater. It really highlights your eyes. Is it new?"  
  
Steve inspected what he was wearing, and said, "Yeah, thanks. Dad gave it to me this morning for Christmas."  
  
She led him to the china cabinet showed him which china, silver, crystal, and linens to use. He was not surprised to find everything had a Christmas theme.  
  
"Christmas is your favorite holiday, isn't it?"  
  
"Yup. This year, it's like I'm eleven years old again and everything's perfect." After a pause, she continued softly, "It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the holidays so much. I owe that to you, your dad, Jesse and Susan, and Amanda and the boys."  
  
He turned and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. "Liv, we haven't done anything special, just tried to make you feel comfortable like any other new friend. It's just luck that you happen to click with our little gang."  
  
She shook her head and said, "I don't believe in luck."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Nope. I believe in God, and I believe He has a plan for each of us. We can fight it or follow it, but in the end, He will have His way." She leaned her forehead against his chest and continued, "I've been fighting Him for years by running from place to place when people got too close." She tipped her head back and looked into Steve's eyes. "This time, He's used you and the gang and the jeep…"  
  
Steve grinned, "Thank God for that appalling jeep."  
  
Olivia smiled. "Yeah. He's used everything to make running harder than staying. It's been years since I've…had friends…to celebrate with." Her hands fluttered uselessly in then air, wanting to give shape to her words. "I haven't had a Christmas since...Ted.... I've been so alone for so long, I'd given up hope of ever doing this kind of thing again. God doesn't want me to be alone, so He made all of you my friends before I could put up any walls."  
  
Steve could see her chin trembling as she fought back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He held her close and rocked her side to side for a moment or two. He kissed the top of her head and shushed her softly. "I can't claim anything close to your faith, Liv. I have to believe in luck because I can't imagine anyone being capable of orchestrating our lives like you suggest, but luck, destiny, or God Almighty not withstanding, you won't ever be alone again as long as I'm here. I promise."  
  
She stayed wrapped in his tender embrace for a little while longer, then looked into his eyes, smiled, and sniffed. "Enough of this," she said with finality. "It's Christmas morning, and I have guests arriving in...." Grabbing Steve's arm, she lifted it to see his watch again, making him smile, "...fifty-five minutes. Yikes! Please set the table for me, I'm going to shower, ok?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Steve said with a grin as she scampered off to shower and dress. There might not be a dozen kids, but his vision was coming true nonetheless.  
  
Steve spread the heavy red damask cloth on the table and pulled it even on both sides and ends. Then he set out eight heavy china plates with holly painted around the rims for Olivia, himself and his dad, Jesse and Susan, and Amanda and the boys. He put a cup and saucer and a dark green napkin beside each plate, and found the butter dish, creamer, and sugar bowl to match the set and filled them and put them on the table. Olivia's Christmas silverware had white enameled handles decorated with holly to match the plates, and the large crystal water goblets and the small ones she planned to use for juice were etched with holly and pine.  
  
After setting the table, Steve started coffee and then wandered around the house finding candles that he thought would look good on the table. He had just finished lighting the last of three tall, green pillar candles when Olivia came into the room.  
  
"Steve, it looks beautiful. Thanks."  
  
He turned and smiled, and then gaped in admiration. "I thought the candles would be a nice touch, but they're nothing compared to what I see before me. You will definitely be the most beautiful decoration in the room."  
  
Olivia wore a dark green crushed velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline and short sleeves. The bodice was closely fitted to show off her figure splendidly, and the knee-length skirt flared beautifully as she twirled for his admiration. Her red curls were held back from her face with a silver and green barrette shaped like a bow. Her green hose were decorated with small glittery snowflakes, and her matching pumps had silver snowflakes stitched over the toes. She wore an enameled Christmas tree pin with tiny red and blue ornaments and miniature gift packages underneath it.  
  
Steve tapped the bow and said, "You make a lovely package. Do I get to unwrap you later?"  
  
Olivia giggled and blushed prettily and said, "Thank you. Maybe…probably." Lifting Steve's arm to look at his watch, she said, "forty five minutes. Just enough time to fix brunch before everyone gets here. Would you please plug in the tree and then come help me in the kitchen?"  
  
"Uh…yeah. I have to run out to my truck for a minute, but I'll be right back."  
  
"Ok," Olivia said in a puzzled tone as she headed for the kitchen.  
  
By the time Steve got back, the house smelled delicious. He discretely placed his two packages on Olivia's seat and entered the kitchen to see how he could help. Olivia wore a green apron painted like a Christmas tree. She had sausage and home fries cooking, and she was mixing biscuit dough.  
  
"What can I do, Liv?"  
  
Under her supervision, Steve baked the biscuits and made cinnamon buns from scratch, he prepared sausage gravy, and washed fresh strawberries, peeled and sliced kiwi, and dipped banana slices in lemon juice to keep them from going brown. Meanwhile, Olivia amazed him again by carving a large cantaloupe into a swan.  
  
The wings and tail were thin slices of the melon, each offset slightly from its neighbors to simulate feathers, and the neck and the head were made from a strip of cantaloupe a couple of inches wide that had been between the two wings. She'd cut the strip in two at an angle then flipped one piece over to form the distinctive s-curve and held it together with a bamboo skewer. The wings and tail were also held in place with skewers, and as a final touch, she gave her creation two raisin eyes. The now-empty seed cavity was slightly enlarged by opening the wings, and the space was filled with the fresh fruit Steve had prepared. The whole thing sat on a white platter surrounded by purple, red, and green grapes.  
  
"There," Olivia said, washing her hands. "All that's left are pancakes and eggs. They'll have to wait until everyone arrives. Why don't you put the fruit on the buffet? I'll put the gravy, potatoes, and sausage in the oven with the biscuits and cinnamon rolls to keep warm. I still need to make the icing for the cinnamon rolls, but we should be done just in time."  
  
Steve carried the swan out and set it on the buffet in the dining room. Then he decided that now was probably the right time to give her his presents.  
  
"Liv, could you come out here a minute? I need you."  
  
She came to him wiping her hands on a towel. "Yeah, babe? What's up?"  
  
He took the towel from her hands and said, "I know we were supposed to wait until tonight to exchange gifts, but I wanted this to be special." He handed her the green velvet box the jeweler had given him for the watch first.  
  
Olivia's brow wrinkled with curiosity as she took the box. When she opened it, her eyes went wide with surprise, she squealed with delight and jumped up and down like an over-excited child saying, "You found it! You found it! Oh, thank you, Steve. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you sooooo much! Where was it?"  
  
"It was on my nightstand," he said. "I guess you left it there the night we met. I found it when I moved back down to my apartment, and I knew right away what I was going to do with it. I just kept praying you wouldn't buy a new watch before I could give it back to you."  
  
Her hands were trembling so much with excitement that Steve had to fasten the watch for her. Then he handed her the large flat box that held the necklace.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
Steve shrugged and said, "Open it."  
  
Her reaction was not nearly so dramatic this time, but Steve could tell he'd done well.  
  
"Oh, Steve," she said breathlessly as she ran her finger lightly over the necklace. "It's stunning, and it matches perfectly. Where in the world did you find it?"  
  
He took it out of the box for her, and she turned around so he could put it around her neck.  
  
"I had it made. I'm glad you like it."  
  
"Like it?" As soon as he had the clasp fastened, she went to the nearest mirror and said, "I adore it." Holding her wrist up so she could admire the two pieces together, she said, "It's perfect."  
  
Steve came to stand behind her and said, "No, hon, you just make it look that way."  
  
He saw her reflection in the mirror blush again. Then she turned and gave him a kiss that stole his breath and his reason. Before he knew what he was doing, he was unzipping her dress. Sometimes he simply could not control himself with her. He'd never loved a woman so completely and so passionately before. The power of his emotions was a little frightening, but he was confident that the feelings were mutual. After all, he realized with some amusement as they continued their passionate kiss, she was working at undoing his pants.  
  
He scooped her up to carry her to the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and continued to shower him with kisses. He'd taken just one step when the doorbell rang. They moaned in unison, and Steve reluctantly put her down. He zipped her dress for her, and she smoothed his hair. Then they both went to open the door together.  
  
"Merry Christmas!" Shouted Jesse and Susan as they stepped into the foyer.  
  
"Merry Christmas!" Steve and Olivia returned their greeting.  
  
"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" Susan commented as they all went to the living room.  
  
"It is a gorgeous day," Olivia agreed, "but I miss my snow. Of course," she continued in a softer voice, "good friends and fellowship mean a whole lot more to me than a pile of white stuff."  
  
Susan looked around the living room, and said, "Olivia, this is a great house."  
  
"You haven't been here before, have you?"  
  
"No, but I'd love to see the place, if you don't mind."  
  
"Sure, Susan. Let's start in the kitchen, so I can finish the icing for the cinnamon rolls."  
  
"Ok. Do you need any help?"  
  
"No, thanks, it's a simple job, but you can keep me company."  
  
"Hey, Liv," Jesse got her attention, "before you wander off, Susan and I brought you something. We both noticed your fondness for dark chocolate and thought you might want to include this with brunch."  
  
He handed her a three-pound box of dark chocolate-covered cherries, and got a more enthusiastic response than he ever expected. She threw her arms around him and said, "Oh, Jess!" Hugging Susan, too, she said, "These are more perfect than you could ever know."  
  
Upon seeing their confused looks, she knew she had to explain more. "When I was a kid, you could only get these in milk chocolate or mixed dark and milk chocolate. Every Christmas Daddy would buy a box for Mama and a box for me. I was wild about the dark ones, and Mama preferred the milk chocolate, so after all the presents were opened I would go out to the kitchen table, open both boxes, and switch the dark chocolate for the milk chocolate. These are my favorite candies in the whole world. Thank you both."  
  
She handed the candies to Steve and said, "Why don't you put them on the buffet, babe? Sit some in among the grapes on the fruit tray. I think they'll look really good there."  
  
As Olivia led Susan to the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, "Guys, I have a few Christmas CD's in the rack. Why don't you find them and put them on?"  
  
"Will do, Liv," Steve called back to her.  
  
"I see you gave her the necklace, Steve," Jesse said in a low voice. "If a box of chocolates can get her that excited, I can only imagine her reaction to the necklace."  
  
Steve grinned and said in a confidential tone, "Let's just say she wasn't nearly as loud about it, but she thanked me very nicely."  
  
Before long, Mark arrived, followed closely by Amanda and the boys. Finally, Olivia's house was filled with fun, friends, music, and joy. As she stepped into the living room doorway to take orders for pancakes and eggs, she paused for a moment to survey the scene. Steve and Jesse were on the floor playing with the boys while Mark, Susan, and Amanda admired the tree and it's decorations. Olivia sighed contentedly. Just then, Steve caught her eye and blew her a kiss. CJ saw him and made a face that made both Olivia and Steve laugh.  
  
"All right, everyone," Olivia called, "most of the food is on the table. The first batch of pancakes is on the griddle as we speak. I need to know who wants eggs, how many, and how to cook them. I make them three ways, scrambled, over-easy, and boiled."  
  
She took the orders and said, "Steve, sweetheart, I'll need an extra pair of hands for about five minutes. Would you mind?"  
  
"Not at all." He walked to where she was standing in the doorway, pointed up to the mistletoe hanging there, and planted a big, sloppy kiss on her mouth.  
  
CJ said, "Gross!"  
  
Olivia started to giggle.  
  
Steve whispered, "We'll finish this later."  
  
Olivia agreed, "You bet your life we will."  
  
They fixed the eggs and a second batch of pancakes while everyone else started on the buffet. When Steve and Olivia finally sat down at the table, they were showered with compliments for the meal.  
  
"Olivia, please tell me you had a caterer make that swan," Amanda almost pleaded.  
  
Olivia shrugged, "Sorry, 'Manda, I made it myself just this morning. I can teach you how. As a pathologist, I'm sure you're good at slicing and dicing."  
  
There was a general groan at Olivia's ill-considered comment, but Amanda asked eagerly, "Do you really think I could learn how to do that?"  
  
"Sure I do," Olivia said with a malicious grin. "In fact, with practice, I'm sure your work would be a cut above the rest."  
  
Mark and Jesse laughed at the pun, Amanda rolled her eyes, and Susan moaned. Steve just sat back to see what would happen next. He was not disappointed.  
  
Olivia shrugged her shoulders and said, "What can I say guys? I was voted class clown in school. I've always been a cut up."  
  
She got much the same reaction as before, and Steve decided it was time to put a stop to things. Holding up a cinnamon roll for her, he said, "We know you've got a sharp wit, Liv. Now sink your choppers into this and quit while you're ahead."  
  
Susan looked from Steve to Olivia and said, "My God, it's contagious."  
  
Mark, Jesse, and Olivia could barely contain their laughter as Steve put a hand to his forehead and said, "Will someone please change the subject, NOW!"  
  
"Gladly," Amanda agreed. "Olivia, that is a gorgeous necklace. Where did you get it?"  
  
Olivia touched the necklace and Steve saw her eyes light up. "Steve gave it to me this morning. He couldn't wait, I guess. He found my great- grandmother's watch and had this made to match it." She held her wrist up next to the necklace to show off both pieces together.  
  
"Steve tells me there's quite a story behind that watch," Mark prompted. "It has something to do with why we're here today."  
  
"Oh, yes," Olivia said excitedly. "But it's more about my great-grandma, Adeline, her husband Otto, and her mother, Elsa, than it is about the watch. Adeline was the oldest of ten children. She was about three months pregnant with my grandmother, Gretchen, her thirteenth child, the year she started this Christmas breakfast tradition. Since she wasn't far along, no one but her husband, Otto, knew about the baby."  
  
"Your grandma was one of thirteen children?" Jesse asked in amazement.  
  
"Actually fourteen. My uncle Galen was the baby. In that time and place, big families were needed to work the farms."  
  
Jesse gave a low whistle.  
  
"Now, great-grandma Adeline was the only one of the ten who still lived near her parents, Elsa and Karl, and since they were getting older, she suggested that the family all get together at her house for Christmas. Otto would ride over to his in-law's place on Christmas morning, and bring them back for breakfast, and it would be a nice little surprise for Elsa and Karl."  
  
"I think I can see where this is headed," Mark said with a grin. "Something went wrong, didn't it?"  
  
Olivia returned his smile and continued her story, "Adeline had more ambition than good sense. Kinda runs in the family, don't you know? Back in the day, it was 1911, most folks in the mountains of western Pennsylvania still traveled by horse-drawn sleigh in the winter. Since travel was slow and the weather was unpredictable, anyone with any brains allowed extra time to get where they wanted to go. People started arriving on the evening of December twenty-third. With nine grown brothers and sisters and all of the attendant spouses, children and grandchildren, and a couple of great-grandchildren, as well as her own seven grown kids and their spouses and children and a few grandchildren, by Christmas Eve, Adeline was trying to hide a hundred and ten people from her parents."  
  
"It didn't work, did it?" Amanda asked.  
  
"No, it was almost a miserable disaster," Olivia said with a shake of her head. Then she continued. "The men and the older boys slept in the barn, leaving the women and children to crowd into the house. Adeline was lucky that most folks at that time brought extra food along with them on a trip, just in case the weather got bad, and the men went hunting on the twenty- third so there was plenty of fresh venison for Christmas Day. When they gathered their resources, there was plenty to eat. Of course Elsa and Karl figured out about Adeline's little surprise when sleigh after sleigh rode right by their house on the way to Adeline and Otto's place. Elsa came and helped butcher the deer when the men came back from the hunt."  
  
"So, how did the breakfast go?" Steve asked.  
  
"It was an all-day affair. The women started cooking at four in the morning in the kitchen and over campfires in the yard. Several of the relatives were ministers or laity, so instead of swamping the little country church by the creek, they organized a midday service in the barn at Elsa's insistence, and after the evening meal, they had a barn dance. At some point in the day, the families exchanged gifts."  
  
Olivia lifted her wrist to show the watch again. She pointed out the features as she explained their significance.  
  
"Otto gave Adeline this watch. The face was heart-shaped to remind her that his heart belonged to her every minute and every hour of every day. The mother-of-pearl and blue-green shells represented their twelve children, and the clasp didn't have the center stone yet. Elsa never thought much of her son-in-law, and she used the missing stone to take a dig at him. She'd always hoped her oldest daughter would marry someone more influential than a farmer. She told him it was a cheap piece of junk because it had already lost a stone."  
  
"Well, that wasn't very nice," Susan said with some distaste.  
  
"Elsa wasn't know for being nice, but for the first time in his life, Otto stood up to his mother-in-law. 'Mother Schweiger,' he said, 'as long as you are in my home, you will be civil to me, and you will be grateful for and appreciative of the effort my wife and I have made to bring your family together for you for Christmas.'  
  
'Your wife?' Elsa said, 'You mean my daughter.'  
  
"There was a major blow-up, wasn't there?" Amanda asked.  
  
"Almost," Olivia said. "Otto told her, 'No, Mother Schweiger, I mean MY WIFE. Adeline has been my wife for over twenty years now, and she will tell you that I have always treated her like a treasure. That watch is not cheap. It is precious, just like her, and it is not missing a stone, it is waiting for the right one. Adeline is expecting our thirteenth child this spring, and when it comes, I will take the watch to the jeweler in town and have him put the baby's birthstone in the empty space.' That's how the whole clan found out Adeline was expecting."  
  
"Then what happened?" Jesse asked.  
  
"My great-aunt Ute told me Adeline fainted dead away, she was so embarrassed to have the news come out that way. Elsa supposedly made some comment about Otto rutting like a buck, and the ladies were appalled at her crudity. Otto got her coat and told her it was her last chance to change her tune before she was asked to leave. They supposedly stared each other down for a long time before Elsa finally conceded, saying, 'It's about time you grew a backbone, Otto. The watch is lovely.'"  
  
"That's it?" Mark asked, shocked and disappointed, "That's all there is to the story behind the watch? Elsa just caved in?"  
  
"She collapsed like a wet paper bag, Mark. What would you do if you had just been told to mind your manners in front of a hundred relatives? When grandma Gretchen was born in June of 1912, Elsa paid to have the pearl set in the clasp. She had wanted to go with the traditional alexandrite birthstone, but that year the American jewelers came out with their list of modern birthstones. Otto thought the pearl went better with the watch, and Elsa agreed. She and Otto learned to get along, and she started to treat her other in-laws better, too. In the last years of her life, she went from being dreaded and feared for her sharp tongue to being loved and admired for her kindness."  
  
"So, old Otto changed her life, huh?" Mark commented.  
  
"I guess so," Olivia agreed. "For the next sixty years the whole family got together every Christmas for breakfast at the old farmhouse, and I've been told there was never another harsh word uttered during the holidays. We were very close when I was a kid. It was wonderful."  
  
"What happened after sixty years?" Steve asked.  
  
Olivia seemed to disconnect herself from reality for a moment, and Steve wished he could call the question back. Thankfully, she just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Most of the people who kept the tradition going had died off by then, and one year it just stopped."  
  
Steve reached for her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze, hoping to communicate to her that he knew he'd touched a sensitive spot and he was sorry for what he'd done. She squeezed back and gave him a smile to let him know it was all right.  
  
"Oh, and one more thing," Olivia said with a laugh. "The men and boys got fleas from sleeping in the barn that Christmas, and every family was flea- bitten the rest of the winter. It was especially cold that year, too, so winter lasted until the middle of April. The joke for years was that it was the Christmas of the deep fleas."  
  
"But except for that little standoff between Otto and Elsa, everyone had a RELATIVELY good time, didn't they?" Mark asked, unable to resist another pun.  
  
Before Olivia could answer, Amanda said, "I'm sure they did." Pointing a finger at Mark, she said, "We are not going through that again, got it?"  
  
Mark nodded his surrender and said, "We all need to get going soon if we're going to get to the hospital in time for the children's Christmas party."  
  
As one, everybody began helping to clear the table and put away leftovers. 


	26. Santa's Helpers

(Chapter 26. CGH children's ward. Christmas Day.)  
  
As Mark, Steve and Olivia, and Jesse and Susan approached the children's ward at Community General Hospital, a very flustered nurse came running up to them. Amanda had decided to take the kids to her mom's house for a while, so she wasn't there.  
  
"Oh, Dr. Sloan," the nurse wailed, "thank goodness you're finally here. It's awful, doctor, just awful!"  
  
"Calm down, Jennie," Mark said in his most soothing voice, "and tell me what's wrong."  
  
The older woman's cheeks and nose were pink, and her eyes were watery as if she had just finished crying or was about to start. She was trembling, which made the wattles of loose flesh on her neck wiggle as she told her story with her arms flailing about like the sails on a windmill.  
  
"Howard called, Dr. Sloan."  
  
Mark looked at his watch and said, "He's running a bit late, isn't he?"  
  
Jennie grabbed Mark's arm in a death grip and jerked him close to her. In a conspiratorial whisper she told him, "No, he's not late, doctor, he isn't coming. He and all three of his kids have the flu."  
  
"Oh, poor Howard, I know how he enjoys this par…"  
  
"Forget 'poor Howard,'" Jennie said emphatically. "We have no Santa Claus. The children will be so disappointed. I was hoping you'd have an idea."  
  
She hauled Mark with her as she went to the nurses' station and thrust a large box into his hands. "Here are the costumes," she said as she continued to clutch at his arm. "Santa and three elves, just like last year."  
  
"Well, Jennie, what do you expect me to do?"  
  
"I don't know, doctor, but you simply must do something. These sick little children are expecting to meet Santa today, and you can't let them down."  
  
"I…I'll see what I can do, Jennie, but…"  
  
"Good! Now I've got to get back to the party. Please do hurry, the children are getting impatient." With that, she scuttled back to the game room, presumably to single-handedly keep the party from disintegrating while the children waited for Santa.  
  
"Well, Dad," Steve said as he approached with a smirk, "It looks like you're in quite a pickle."  
  
"I sure am, and I don't know what to do about it." He pulled the top to the Santa suit out of the box and shook out the wrinkles. After holding it at arms length for a moment, he started to grin and looked at Steve and Jesse appraisingly. "Did she say Santa and three elves?"  
  
After a moment of stone cold silence, Steve caught his drift, held up his hands, and started backing away. "No way, Dad. No, I'm not going to do it."  
  
Suddenly Jesse caught on and joined Steve in protest. "I can't do it, Mark. Some of those kids are my patients. I promised to come visit them today. I can't be an elf and be myself at the same party."  
  
Olivia caught Steve by the arm and returned Mark's grin, saying, "I don't know, Susan, I think it would be fun, don't you?"  
  
Susan sidled up to Jesse and grabbed his elbow, "Yeah, Liv, I think it would be great. We really should do it. For the kids."  
  
"But Olivia," Jesse whined, "little Timmy Robbins! You promised to visit him today."  
  
"Oh, I will, Jess," she assured him, "after we've fed Santa's reindeer."  
  
"Liv," Steve insisted, "there is no way I am doing this. Two years ago, Dad roped me into singing with his barbershop quartet, and I made a fool of myself. Not this year."  
  
Olivia cuddled up close to Steve. Tracing her fingers lightly over his chest, she said, "Steve, sweetie?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"You know that…special…package you wanted to unwrap today before breakfast?" she asked in a syrupy-sweet tone.  
  
Steve's eyes drifted closed and he smiled and sighed, "Mmmm."  
  
Stepping away and folding her arms she told him flatly, "It can wait until your birthday."  
  
Feigning surprise, Susan moved away from Jesse to stand beside Olivia. "You know, Liv, I think I got Jesse the same gift. He might see it at Easter."  
  
Mark watched as the two young women stood there, facing off against their men, arms folded, staring coldly. After a moment, Jesse turned to Steve and said, "We're going to do this, aren't we?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Jesse and Steve turned to the girls.  
  
"Ok, we're in," Steve said.  
  
"What have you got in mind, Liv, and what are you going to do about the patients who are expecting to see us in person?" Jesse demanded.  
  
"Relax," Olivia said with a broad grin, "I have a plan."  
  
Like a general marshaling her troops, she set them each a specific assignment.  
  
"Susan, I need you to get three…" inspecting Steve and the Santa suit, she changed her mind, "…make that four of the fluffiest pillows you can find. Also get a couple of rolls of gauze."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Jesse, in the closet in physical therapy, they have a big box of musical instruments. In there, you'll find a stick with about forty thousand million jingle bells on it. I'll need that, and see if you can find something that will snap like a whip. If you can't find it, your belt will do."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Steve, go to the gift shop and buy a stuffed animal with lots of brown, fuzzy, fur. It doesn't have to be big, just hairy."  
  
"What kind of animal?"  
  
"Doesn't matter, babe. We're going to shave it."  
  
"Say again?"  
  
"I'll explain later. Mark, find an orderly, a janitor, a warm body with two hands, whatever, and send him to my office. Then go entertain the kids for a while. If anyone asks about us, say we're on our way. If they ask about Santa, tell them you saw him earlier this morning and he said he'd be by as soon as he finished at the orphanage."  
  
"Ok. What orphanage?"  
  
"Does it matter? Just tell Jennie we've got it covered."  
  
"Right."  
  
Clapping her hands and rubbing them together, she said, "Jesse, Steve, Susan, meet me in my office in ten minutes." Then she grabbed the box of costumes and practically danced down the hall and into the elevator. Steve thought she looked like a storybook sprite. 'No,' he made a mental correction, 'she's an elf.'  
  
The four remaining friends broke from their little huddle and set off to accomplish their individual missions, each wondering exactly what Olivia had in mind.  
  
The orderly was the first to arrive at Olivia's office. He was quite surprised to find a redheaded elf dressed like a giant green and white candy cane ironing Santa's suit in the office of the head of orthopedic medicine. Her vest and very short shorts were dark green velvet, and her turtleneck, tights, and stocking cap were green and white striped with glittery silver threads running through them. Her curly-toed shoes were metallic green, and she wore glittery green eye shadow and lipstick as well.  
  
"Uh…are you Dr. Regis?"  
  
"Yep! Did Dr. Sloan send you?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am…he…uh…he said you needed help up here."  
  
"I will in just a few minutes. For now just have a seat. What's you're name?"  
  
"Uh…Chris."  
  
"Kringle?"  
  
"Ma'am?"  
  
"It was a joke, Chris. Just relax."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Susan arrived next, followed seconds later by Jesse and Steve. Again, Olivia went into overdrive giving orders to her troops.  
  
"Everybody, meet Chris."  
  
"Kringle?" asked Jesse.  
  
"No, Jess," Olivia told him. "We've already covered that ground."  
  
"You're on auto-pilot, aren't you?" Steve asked.  
  
"Betcherlife! Chris is going to be our prop manager and sound effects man. Jesse, Steve, did you get what I asked for?"  
  
They tossed their finds to her simultaneously, and she was the only one not surprised when she caught them both.  
  
"Good. Great! Ok, Steve, strip to your shorts and t-shirt. Jesse and Susan, use the gauze to hold the pillows on, and then help him get into the suit."  
  
Taking the stuffed bear Steve had bought, she handed it to Chris and said, "Get the scissors out of the top drawer of my desk and trim the hair off this thing. Get a big envelope out of the bottom drawer to hold it so it doesn't blow all over the place."  
  
"Why am I doing this, Dr. Regis?"  
  
"We need reindeer hair."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Pay attention, son, and you'll catch on. Everybody listen so we keep our stories straight. Kids are surprisingly sophisticated now days, and they'll smell a rat if we don't do this right."  
  
As she ironed the rest of the costumes, Olivia carefully set the scene for her players.  
  
"Santa, after your ho-ho-hos and Merry Christmases, the first thing you need to do is make sure everybody hears you telling Dr. Sloan that his son and his friends are on the roof taking care of the reindeer, but they'll be along later. That way the kids will understand why we're not there. Do you know the names of all the reindeer?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes heavenward in thought for a moment. Olivia interrupted before he could begin. "The kids will know it's a fake if you do that."  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Look at the ceiling as if the answer were written there. Try again." Mimicking a child's voice, she asked, "Santa, what are the reindeer's names?"  
  
Looking her in the eye this time, Steve rattled them off, grunting as Jesse and Susan wrapped the gauze tightly around his middle and the pillows. "Dasher, Dancer, Prancer Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen, Rudolph, and Ralph."  
  
"Ralph?!" Everyone asked in unison.  
  
"That's how you know I'm the real Santa," he said with a grin as he buttoned his coat and put on his beard and white hair. "Nobody else knows about Ralph."  
  
Olivia grinned, pleased that Steve was getting into the spirit of things. "Very clever, Santa. Now, once you tell Dr. Sloan that his friends are with the reindeer, let him know that you're sorry you're late, but people have left you so many trays with cookies and milk this year that you're running behind schedule."  
  
"That's why I brought Ralph. He helps me eat the cookies, but he's getting full, too." Santa slipped on his pants, buckled his belt, and stomped into his boots as his other two elves quickly dressed. "I'm just so pleased with how kind and generous people have been this year, if I could keep up the pace, I'd make everyday Christmas Day from now until New Years."  
  
"Very good, Santa!" Olivia lavished her praise. "Everybody remember, Ralph's a little sensitive about his weight, so if the kids ever see him, they shouldn't say anything about it. Now, everyone knows Santa, but who are we?" She rolled her eyes and then looked at her glittery green shoes. "I'm Sparkle!" Looking at Susan, she asked, "Who are you?"  
  
Susan's dark blue and white outfit was cut in the same style as Sparkle's but where Sparkle's had stripes, Susan's had checks. Instead of glitter, Susan had bells trimming her suit. As she put her elf-slippers on, her bells made their happy sound, striking her with sudden inspiration. "I'm Jingle!" she said.  
  
Jesse sat pouting on the couch in a dark red suit like the others but decorated with a diamond pattern instead of stripes or checks. He didn't have bells or glitter, but his suit was trimmed with satin. When the girls looked at him, he shrugged. "I don't know. Help me out."  
  
Sparkle thought a moment more and then snapped her fingers. "Harkin!" she proclaimed.  
  
"Harkin?" Jesse made a face. "What's a Harkin?"  
  
"I read it in a romance novel when I was a kid. It's an old Irish name. It means 'dark red.' I think it sounds much more sophisticated than Rusty."  
  
"Harkin." He tried the name on his tongue. "I don't know. It's a little weird, isn't it?"  
  
"No," Jingle told him, "it's not weird. It's unusual."  
  
"It's extraordinary," Sparkle agreed.  
  
"Harkin." A slow grin spread across his face. "Harkin! I like it. Ok, I'm Harkin."  
  
"Ok, Santa, who are your elves?"  
  
Pointing to them in turn, he said, "Sparkle, Jingle, and Harkin."  
  
"Right, and the reindeer?"  
  
He ticked them off on his fingers as he named them, "Dasher, Dancer, Prancer Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen, Rudolph, and Ralph. Ralph helps me eat the cookies, and he's sensitive about his weight. So if you ever meet him, please don't say anything about his being chubby."  
  
"Let's hear your ho-ho-ho."  
  
His first try was somewhat feeble, as he was feeling self-conscious.  
  
"I *know* you can do better than that," Sparkle encouraged him, putting a hand on his bulging stomach. She took one of his hands and put it over her own flat belly and modeled. "Lower your voice and use your abs to shake that gut. Ho! Ho! Ho!"  
  
He tried again, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"  
  
Sparkle shook her head, "You're Santa Claus, not the Jolly Green Giant. Be more…" her hands waved vaguely in the air trying to paint the image she wanted, "…ebullient."  
  
"Ebullient?"  
  
"Merry."  
  
"Oh!" Santa tried again, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"  
  
"Better, now louder."  
  
"HO! HO! HO!"  
  
Sparkle laughed and clapped. "Wonderful, Santa! That's perfect! Now, after we deliver the gifts and visit for a while, we'll come back up here and turn back into Steve, Jesse, Susan, and Olivia. We'll sprinkle some of this reindeer hair Chris Not Kringle produced for us on our clothes and go back down to join the party."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Harkin agreed.  
  
"Let's go," said Jingle.  
  
"Uh, Liv?"  
  
"Tut-tut, Santa. Olivia isn't here right now."  
  
Santa grinned and said, "Sparkle, where are the presents?"  
  
"Oh!" Chris Not Kringle shouted, "Dr. Sloan told me to tell you they were in a big bag in the office behind the nurses station on the children's ward."  
  
"Perfect," said Sparkle. "I love it when a plan comes together." She picked up the phone and dialed the children's ward. "Dr. Sloan, please." A moment later, she continued, "Dr. Sloan? This is Sparkle, one of the elves….Uh-huh.…Yes….We'll be there in five minutes….Ok. See you soon….Good bye."  
  
Turning to her companions, Sparkle gave one last set of instructions before they left Olivia's office. "Remember, Steve, Jesse, Susan, and Olivia are on the roof with the reindeer. Ralph helps eat the cookies and he's sensitive about his weight. Pointing to the other elves and herself in turn, she said, Harkin, Jingle, and Sparkle. Right?"  
  
"Right!" responded her friends.  
  
She took off her necklace and watch and put them in the desk. "Kids'll spot watches, rings, bracelets, and necklaces in a heartbeat. Stow 'em in here for now." A small collection of jewelry was deposited in Olivia's drawer, which Sparkle then locked.  
  
She handed the orderly the jingle bells and a belt and said, "Chris Not Kringle, ride down in the elevator with us. When we get there, sneak up close to the game room, and shake the bells. Then snap the belt. Don't let any of the kids see you, or you'll ruin everything. Wait around, and do the same thing again, about five minutes after we leave. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," the young man agreed.  
  
"Ok, let's go."  
  
Santa and his elves had a wonderful time at the Community General Children's Ward Christmas party. As Santa passed out the gifts he had brought, he made sure to talk to Dr. Sloan about his son and friends.  
  
"Ho! Ho! Ho! By the way, Dr. Sloan, we saw your son Steve and his friends, Dr. Travis, Nurse Hilliard, and Dr. Regis, on the way in and asked them to take care of the reindeer."  
  
"Oh, really, Santa?"  
  
"Yessiree. Ho! Ho! They're very good boys and girls, so they agreed. They just wanted you to know they'd be a little late to the party, but they will definitely be here."  
  
"Ok, Santa," Mark said with a grin. "Thanks for the message."  
  
Just then, Santa felt a shy little tug on his sleeve. He sat on the gurney next to a slip of a child with his leg in a huge white cast who said, "My name is Timmy Robbins, Santa."  
  
"Well, of course it is, Timmy. I know who you are, and I know you've been a good little boy this year…at least as good as you can be."  
  
The little boy laughed and admitted, "I try, but sometimes I'm not so good."  
  
"I know that, Timmy, but Santa just wants to know that you tried your best."  
  
Timmy's eyes got big and he said, "Oh, I did, Santa! I really did!"  
  
"Ho! Ho! Ho! I know that, too, Timmy. That's why I have a gift in my sack for you." He handed the Timmy a brightly wrapped package.  
  
"Thank you, Santa!" The child tore the gift open to reveal the hot new action toy of the season. "This is just what I wanted!"  
  
"I knew that, too, Timmy."  
  
Timmy's initial reserve had finally melted and in a loud piping voice he asked, "Santa can we go see the reindeer?"  
  
As one the room full of children responded, "Yeah!!!"  
  
Santa apologized, "I'm sorry, kids, they're up on the roof, and it's too cold and windy for you to be out there."  
  
One clever little fellow suggested, "Maybe Dr. Travis and his friends can bring them down here."  
  
"Oh, no," Harkin said. "They have such thick fur, it would be too warm for them inside. They're used to the cold weather at the North Pole."  
  
"Besides," Santa said, "Ralph would eat all your cookies."  
  
Timmy looked up at Santa and asked, "Who's Ralph?"  
  
Santa looked at the boy and asked, "You don't know about Ralph?"  
  
Timmy shook his head.  
  
Looking at the other kids and adults, Santa asked, "Do any of you know about Ralph?"  
  
There was a chorus of no's, and Jingle said, "I told you no one had ever heard of him."  
  
Sparkle said, "I tried to get him to let Mr. Clement Clarke Moore include him in that poem, 'Twas the Night before Christmas', but that would mean he'd have to have his picture made, and you know how he is about that."  
  
"Well, it wouldn't be a problem," Harkin said, "if he'd lay off the cookies."  
  
"Now, Harkin," Santa said, "that's not nice."  
  
"Santa," Dr. Sloan asked, "Who's Ralph?"  
  
"Ralph is the tenth reindeer," Santa said. He explained everything while his elves finished delivering the gifts. "Everybody has always known about Dasher, Dancer, Prancer Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, and Blitzen, and then they met Rudolph in that song, but Ralph's really sensitive about his weight. He never poses for pictures with the other reindeer, so no one knows about him. You see people put out so many plates of cookies and milk for me, I can't possibly eat them all myself, so Ralph helps me, and that really packs on the pounds."  
  
"I see," said Dr. Sloan, barely hiding a grin. "Well, Santa, we have a very good weight control and nutrition clinic here at the hospital. Maybe Ralph could enroll in it."  
  
"That's a good idea, Dr. Sloan" Santa said. "I'll tell him about it. Right now, though, I think it's time he gets some more exercise. We need to be going, there's a homeless shelter we still need to stop at before we leave the city."  
  
"Ok, Santa. Thanks for coming by, and have a Merry Christmas."  
  
"Santa! Santa!" Timmy cried, "Can you show us how you disappear up a chimney?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Timmy, but there aren't any chimneys in the hospital."  
  
"I know," Timmy agreed, "but my mom says you make them appear where there aren't any just so you can get in and out."  
  
Santa was at a loss. He looked to Dr. Sloan to explain, but Dr. Sloan just looked to Harkin, who looked to Jingle who looked to Sparkle. Sparkle looked back to Santa, but spoke to the kids.  
  
"Timmy, how did your mom know that? Did she stay up past her bedtime as a little girl?"  
  
Timmy's eyes grew wide as he looked at Sparkle. "I don't know. Is she in trouble?"  
  
"No, Timmy, not anymore. She's grown up now. But I think I know where she found out." Pulling a chair into the center of the room, Sparkle got everyone's attention before she continued speaking.  
  
Sparkle did a back flip and landed standing on the seat of the chair.  
  
Harkin muttered, "Show off."  
  
Sparkle blew Harkin a kiss, grinned, and said, "Grouchy." Then she slowly sank down to sit cross-legged in the chair. "What else have you kids heard about how Santa gets into a house without a chimney?"  
  
"He climbs through the window!"  
  
"He uses the door!"  
  
"He just appears!"  
  
"He shrinks until he can squeeze under the door then he grows again!"  
  
Sparkle waved both hands in the air to stop the flood of responses. "I'm going to tell you all about it, but first, I want you to know, Santa has a lot of helpers who look like him. They don't know all his tricks, and they don't know about Ralph, and they certainly don't know Harkin, Jingle, and me. That's ok. They're just his helpers. They might say they're Santa, and that's ok, too. They have his permission to impersonate him, because anybody who's nice and does good things for other people has a little bit of Santa in them."  
  
Pointing to Santa, she said, "But this guy's the real deal, and he'll tell you everything I say about him is true."  
  
"Now, Timmy, your mom was right," Sparkle began.  
  
"I knew it!" the boy shouted excitedly.  
  
"Oh, but Timmy, that's only part of the story. Let me tell you about it." The crowd hushed and gathered around to hear Sparkle's story. Santa grinned; he could tell Sparkle loved to be the center of attention, and he knew she was quite a talented storyteller.  
  
Lowering her voice, Sparkle began again. "It happened a hundred and ninety- three years ago. That was the first Christmas I joined Santa on his rounds. A very naughty little boy named Eustace Spurge stayed up all night so he could catch Santa coming down the chimney. Do you know why you have to go to bed before Santa can visit you on Christmas Eve?"  
  
A chorus of voices, young and old asked, "Why?"  
  
"Because Santa's magic is very, very special magic," Sparkle said in a confidential tone. "It was given to him a thousand years ago by the Good Witch of the North--the same one you read about in the Wizard of Oz--but there's a condition. Do you know what that condition is?"  
  
Again, the chorus asked, "What?"  
  
"If Santa lets any mortal see his magic, he loses it for a whole year." Sparkle leaned forward in the chair, put her palms on the floor, and went into a handstand. She neatly pirouetted away from the chair on one hand, landed on her feet, and went to Santa. Taking him by the arm, she led him to the chair and sat him down. She picked up a little blonde girl and sat her in his lap. Then she moved to stand behind him with her hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Isn't that right, Santa?"  
  
"That's true, Sparkle."  
  
"You see, boys and girls, Santa doesn't like to admit it, but he was a bit of a show-off in his younger days. So, the Good Witch made sure he couldn't show off with his magic. She just didn't consider some of the problems her condition would create."  
  
Sparkle paused dramatically, waiting until someone asked, "What kind of problems?"  
  
She pointed at the child and said, "I'm glad you asked." She walked around the game room telling the story as much with her hands as with her voice.  
  
"We had just finished our delivery at Eustace Spurge's house. It was supposed to be a short visit. All we had were switches and coal."  
  
The children murmured in horror. They'd all heard of children who received switches and coal for Christmas, but none of them had actually known any.  
  
Jingle grinned to think that some of them probably didn't even know what switches were. They just knew they were horrible.  
  
"That's right," Sparkle assured them all, "Santa really leaves them for naughty children, and old Eustace was one of the naughtiest I've ever seen." She picked up a little girl's stuffed dog and made it bark and said, "But I can see all of you are really very good children, so you'll never have to worry about that."  
  
She sat the toy in the little girl's lap and continued her story. "Any way, as we were leaving, Eustace the Naughty came sneaking down the steps." Sparkle stuck out her tongue, scrunched up her face, and mimicked a wicked child tip-toeing down a flight of stairs. The audience booed her villain before succumbing to giggles at her wild antics.  
  
She leaped high in the air and twisted about, shouting, "And he SPOTTED Santa…" The crowd squealed in horror as she landed in a crouch pointing at the hero of her story, "…going up the chimney!"  
  
When the room was still again, she rose from her crouch and went on with the tale. "Do you know what happened?"  
  
"WHAT, SPARKLE?" children and adults alike begged to know.  
  
She lowered her voice to a mere whisper and said, "It was the most awful thing I've ever seen. Santa lost his magic right then and there and he got STUCK in the chimney!"  
  
She waited, motionless in the dead silence, for someone to urge her to continue.  
  
"What did he do, Sparkle?" asked one of the nurses.  
  
"There was nothing he could do, nurse. He was stuck. Harkin, Jingle, and I had to climb out on the roof, slide down the chimney, and jump up and down on his jiggle-butt until he POPPED out into the fireplace. His magic protects him from soot, and smoke, and fire, so by the time we got him out of there, he was dirty, smelly, and scorched."  
  
"It must have been awful, Santa," a child sympathized.  
  
"Oh, it was," he agreed, "and it really slowed us down. We almost had to cancel Christmas."  
  
"Cancel Christmas? Oh, Santa, no!" cried the little girl in his lap.  
  
"Calm down, sweetie," Santa soothed her. "I said almost."  
  
"Well what happened?" The child asked.  
  
"We just happened to find the Easter Bunny…"  
  
"And the Tooth Fairy…" Jingle added.  
  
"AND the Great Pumpkin…" Harkin elaborated as Santa glared and Sparkle struggled to stifle a laugh.  
  
"Right," Santa agreed, "All three of them were vacationing in Bermuda, and they agreed to help us out. They used their magic to deliver gifts for us that night."  
  
"YEA!!!" the crowd cheered.  
  
"But let me tell you something," Sparkle said. "There was a trade-off." Indicating Jingle, Harkin, and herself, she said, "We had to help all of them with their responsibilities. I don't know about my friends here, but I never want to see another Easter egg, pumpkin-patch, or loose tooth as long as I live."  
  
Jingle shuddered violently making her bells tinkle, and Harkin made a face.  
  
"Didn't Santa help?" a redheaded waif with his arm in a sling wanted to know.  
  
Still holding the little blonde girl, Santa stood up and started toward the door. "Oh, I wanted to," he insisted, "but Sparkle, Jingle, and Harkin wouldn't let me. Part of their job is to make sure all the children in the house are asleep, and their mistake created the problem in the first place. So they wanted to take responsibility for squaring things up with the people who helped us out."  
  
He handed the little girl off to Dr. Sloan and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Shaking a finger at all the children, he admonished them, "Remember what you heard here today. Listen to your parents and go to bed when they tell you, and when you make a mistake, take responsibility for fixing it."  
  
As his elves gathered round him, he waved and slowly walked away. When he was out of sight, the children heard him call out, "HO! HO! HO! Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night."  
  
Back in Olivia's office, Santa and his three elves transformed quickly. All of them were exhilarated by the experience of entertaining the crowd.  
  
"Man, Liv! That was great!" Jesse exclaimed.  
  
"Where did you ever learn those stories, sweetie?" Steve asked.  
  
"I made them up."  
  
"On the spot?" Susan said in disbelief.  
  
Olivia shrugged and said, "I've always had a knack for that sort of thing."  
  
"Well, you're remarkably good at it," Steve complimented.  
  
"Yeah, and what's up with the back flip?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Now that was amazing!" Steve said.  
  
"Oh, I used to be a cheerleader. Since I was small, they used me for all the stunts. I had to learn some acrobatics."  
  
"Where's my watch?" Jesse asked.  
  
Olivia unlocked the desk drawer. As she concentrated on putting on her own jewelry and taking off her makeup, Steve surreptitiously rooted his poor, denuded teddy bear out of the trash can where it had been deposited and slipped it in his pocket. When he saw it after Chris Not Kringle had clipped its hair off he had felt a certain empathy that had weighed on him throughout Santa's visit. Now, he had plans for the pathetic little thing.  
  
Liv almost caught him when she grabbed his hand and rubbed a dab of red lipstick into the palm. She did the same to Jesse, Susan, and herself.  
  
"What's that for?" he asked.  
  
"We all got to pet Rudolph's nose, didn't we?"  
  
"Another great idea, Liv," Susan said, "Where do you get them?"  
  
Olivia smiled and said, "I dunno, sometimes the spirit just moves me."  
  
As they rode in the elevator, Olivia rubbed reindeer hair all over everyone, saying, "Just follow my lead. It'll be great."  
  
When they arrived at the party, Steve made the apologies for all of them. "Sorry we're late, Dad."  
  
"That's all right, son. Santa told us where you were. Did you have fun with the reindeer?"  
  
"Oh, they were great! Did you know they can talk?" Steve said in wonder.  
  
"Can't say as I did," Mark said. "Of course, I've never heard of Ralph before either. Is he really chubby?"  
  
"Oh, Mark," Jesse joined in with a laugh from a seat beside one of his patients, "he looks like a dust bunny on stilts. He's round all over!"  
  
"Jesse!" Susan said in a warning tone. "Don't be so mean."  
  
"Well, how would you describe him?" Jesse demanded.  
  
"Pleasingly plump," Susan responded with a saucy grin.  
  
Over by Timmy's bed, Steve started to brush the hair off his clothes, saying, "Whatever you might say about Ralph, all of them are hairy little buggers."  
  
Olivia caught Steve's hands and wailed, "Don't DO that!"  
  
"Oh, gee, I'm sorry. I guess it's not very sanitary, is it?"  
  
"Never mind that." Olivia said. "Remember what Comet said?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's magical!" She looked at Mark and said, "Dr. Sloan, can you find us a couple rolls of scotch tape."  
  
"I'm on it," Mark told her.  
  
"Dr. Regis, what kind of magic does it have?" Timmy asked.  
  
"Well, Timmy," Olivia said as she caught the tape Mark tossed her. "According to Comet, if you have it in your hand on midnight Christmas Eve and dream about reindeer, you can fly with them and see your house from Santa's sleigh."  
  
"Wow!" the children chorused.  
  
"Now," Olivia said, "among the four of us, I think we have enough reindeer hair to give each of you a little bit. It might still work tonight since it's still Christmas, but if it doesn't, you can always try again next year."  
  
"Yea!!" came the cheer.  
  
As Jesse wrapped tape around his hand, his young patient grabbed it and asked, "Did you burn your hand, Dr. Travis?"  
  
"Huh?" Looking at his hand, Jesse said, "Oh, that? I got to pet Rudolph's nose, and it rubbed off a little."  
  
"Did it hurt?" the child asked.  
  
"Oh, it tingled a little at first, but now I don't feel a thing."  
  
"I meant did it hurt Rudolph?"  
  
"Oh!" Jesse laughed. "No, he liked it. Hey, Susan, Rudolph let all of us pet his nose, didn't he?"  
  
"He sure did," she agreed, holding up her palm to show her red spot.  
  
Steve and Olivia followed suit and the four of them were met with Oooh!s and Aaah!s.  
  
Dr. Sloan and his friends visited a while longer, making sure that each child got some reindeer hair and had the chance to inspect the marks left by Rudolph's nose, and they were all properly impressed with the gifts the children proudly showed off. Steve, Jesse, Olivia, and Susan listened attentively as several of the children reenacted the terrible tale of the horrible Eustace Spurge. Finally, it was time to go.  
  
Mark, Steve, Olivia, Jesse, and Susan wished everyone a very Merry Christmas, and headed off to their Christmas dinner in Malibu. 


	27. Nightmares and Childhood Memories

(Chapter 27. December 26. Olivia's place.)  
  
Steve stretched languidly and sighed in his sleep. He was having another of those near-waking dreams. He was in the woods and the scent of lavender was heavy in the air. He could hear rushing water, a lot of it, and a redheaded, freckle-faced water-fairy sang to him in an ethereal voice. He was certain he knew the song, but he couldn't quite dredge the words from his memory.  
  
Looking around, he realized he was standing on a broad, green island in the middle of a river with waterfalls on either side cascading hundreds of feet to the rocks below. Soon, he recognized the water-fairy as his own beloved Olivia. She was dancing at the edge of the falls, daring the rushing water to sweep her over.  
  
"Liv, be careful." He reached out to her, wanting to draw her into the safety of his arms, but she danced away lightly, laughing at him.  
  
"Olivia, I mean it. Those rocks are dangerous." He stepped closer, but she skipped away, light-footed as a faun, taunting him.  
  
"Come on, babe, you'll have to do better than that if you want me."  
  
With nary a thought for his own safety, he launched himself at her, but she floated away from him on sparkling gossamer wings. Chagrined, he reminded himself that this was a dream and she was a magical creature. He chased after her across the edge of the falls, and for a brief moment had her in his arms. Without warning, she blinked out of existence.  
  
Suddenly things went very badly. He slipped on a slime-covered rock, and went down in the water. He clung desperately to a slick boulder as the powerful current fought to tear him loose. Icy water and silt rushed full into his face, filling his nose and mouth and sinuses, causing him to splutter and gag. Olivia was no longer flitting about on her fairy wings. Instead, she lay stretched to full length on the green island, reaching for him and begging him to reach out to her. Her face was ashen, and there was real panic in her voice.  
  
"Steve! You have to try, love! It's your only chance! Please!"  
  
Heart pounding, gasping for breath, he decided she was right. With a supreme effort, he threw out an arm to grab on to her. Their hands met, and he felt her grip close. She inched her way backward onto the island, never loosening her grip, and when she was as far back as she could get, Steve let go of the boulder, trusting everything to her.  
  
He swung his other hand over his head and grabbed for her. At that moment, their hands slipped. Steve scrabbled frantically for purchase as the inexorable tug of the river dragged him down. Olivia's hands, the grass at the edge of the island, and the river rocks all slipped from his grasp. Finally, he felt himself hurtling to the rocks below.  
  
He landed on the floor with a thump and an "oooff." Soaked in sweat, he sat upright and took a moment to get his bearings. His heart rate and respiration slowed as he realized he was in Olivia's bedroom. She must have already been in the shower, because he heard the water running, and over the noise, he heard her voice singing a familiar melody. After Christmas dinner and exchanging gifts at home, he had driven Olivia back to her place. She meant to honor her implied promise to let him unwrap his "special package" as a reward for playing Santa at the party. He was loath to admit he didn't need any reward for doing the good deed. It had been great fun.  
  
For a moment, he tried to recall the dream that had landed him on the floor, but quickly decided that he didn't want to explore the vague memories any further. He had a feeling if he remembered it, he'd want to analyze it, and for some reason he knew he wouldn't be comfortable with the results of that analysis.  
  
He took off his leg-brace, slowly got to his feet--he was still a little stiff in the mornings--and he got his overnight bag out of the closet where Olivia had made a permanent space for it. Since he was planning to spend the night, he had brought a change of clothes and his brace. He smiled as he remembered the first night, barely more than a week ago, when he had brought it to her house. He'd been concerned that it would create some awkwardness. Olivia, true to form, had dealt with any worries he might have quickly and directly. First, she got him all hot and bothered and naked, and then she gently cajoled him into showing her how the brace fit and how he got it on. He realized that she probably knew more about the device than he did, but he also knew she was putting him at ease by making him talk about it.  
  
"It's going to be part of our life for a while," she'd said. "We might as well learn to work with it now instead of later."  
  
"Are you sure it doesn't bother you," he'd asked, feeling warmed by the phrase 'our life,' but not knowing how to tell her.  
  
She'd put a hand over his heart, and had taken his hand and placed it over her heart. "This is all that matters to me, babe."  
  
Once when his leg had cramped up on him, she had sat up and taken it in her lap and had gently rubbed the pain away.  
  
"Does this happen often?" she'd asked.  
  
"Every night," he'd told her through gritted teeth.  
  
"Wow." She'd continued kneading the rock-hard knot of muscles in his calf. "Do you take anything for it?"  
  
He had nodded tensely. "It's in my bag. Something Jesse prescribed."  
  
After a few more moments of massaging his leg, she had gotten the medication for him and brought him a glass of water. Reading the bottle, she told him, "If you take one of these about half an hour before you put the brace on, you shouldn't have any trouble with cramps, but never take more than one. It contains a narcotic." Once the medication took effect, they had gone back to exploring each other's bodies. He'd followed her advice and his brace never got in their way again.  
  
He grinned lopsidedly as he got a change of clothes out of his bag. Olivia had certainly done most of the exploring last night!  
  
  
  
  
  
He still couldn't believe she'd talked him in to letting her tie him up. After spending two months in a body cast of one form or another, he was still very claustrophobic, and even the light silken bonds that she tied loosely around his wrists and ankles had set his heart hammering in his chest.  
  
She teased and taunted him for what seemed like hours, using her hands, her mouth, and other parts of her to bring him to the edge of climax time and again. Each time he reached what seemed to be the point of no return, she backed off, leaving him breathless and yearning for release. Whenever he forgot his situation and tried to hold or touch her, the ropes were there to remind him that he was at her mercy, and they made his heart pound anew every time. It had been sweet torture!  
  
He asked about her sudden boldness, and she explained that she had attended a seminar a few days ago. She wanted to get better at making love to him, but she hadn't wanted to bore him with too many questions in bed. So, she confessed her lack of experience to the presenters and then quizzed them on a hundred and one topics.  
  
Steve had been delighted as she'd explained and demonstrated some of the things she had learned. He was deeply flattered that she had gone to such lengths to please him, and he told her so. She'd smiled wickedly and told him her motives were purely selfish. "I just wanted to be in charge, but I didn't know what to do."  
  
She made him writhe and twist and strain against his bonds, and a couple of times, he nearly begged her for release of one kind or another, but she seemed so pleased with herself and what she'd learned to do to him, that he took it as a personal challenge to hold on until she gave him permission to let go. A few times, the sense of vulnerability at being her prisoner had become nearly overwhelming, and a vague fear would vie with his arousal, but she sensed his distress and soothed his fraying nerves. Overall, he thoroughly enjoyed himself until she blindfolded him without warning or consent.  
  
She had been telling him how even mild sensory deprivation could heighten arousal when out of nowhere she slipped a silken blindfold over his eyes. It all happened before he had a chance to protest, and when he reached to push the blindfold away and felt the ropes pulling at his wrists again, he truly panicked.  
  
"Oh, God, Liv, don't do that!" he'd shouted as his world went dark. He'd gotten dizzy and had found it odd that he could feel dizzy when he couldn't see the world spinning. He started hyperventilating when she stepped away and he couldn't feel her presence any more.  
  
"Please, Liv!" he'd screamed, "I can't handle this. Take the blindfold off!"  
  
The cords that bound his wrists and ankles tightened as he continued to struggle, and they cut deeply into his flesh. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds at most, he felt her soft hands cupping his face and he heard her voice, shushing him gently.  
  
"Shh. It's ok. Be still so I can take it off," she said.  
  
It was the first time she had ever hushed him. In all he'd been through, she had never once asked him to still his emotions. Around her, he'd always been free, always had permission, always felt *safe* to show exactly what he felt. Now it was as if she was denying him the right to be afraid, and it made him unreasonably angry. He exploded at her.  
  
"Don't shush me, goddammit! Just take the fucking blindfold off!"  
  
She had already done so, and was trying to remove the cord from his left wrist. He saw her bite her lip and watched her trembling hands as she picked frantically at the knot. He could see her eyes were full of tears waiting to spill over.  
  
He felt bad about upsetting her. He knew she was very sensitive and that rough language bothered her. He wanted to soothe her, to apologize, to make things right, but he didn't know what to say. His heart was still pounding with his own terror, and all he could hear was the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The longer the silence stretched, the more her hands shook and the more trouble she had undoing the knot. The tears finally spilled from her eyes. Her actions became increasingly desperate until suddenly she let loose an unearthly moan of frustration. The keen, animal sound made Steve's insides ache and his skin crawl. He shivered uncontrollably as he considered what to do next.  
  
He managed to twist his hand around until he could take hold of hers, and he said, more softly than he thought he could at that moment, "Stop. It's ok."  
  
Her hands ceased picking at the knot, but they continued to tremble.  
  
"Take a deep breath," he told her in a low singsong voice pitched just above a whisper, and she obeyed.  
  
"Good." His hands and feet started going numb, but he could wait a bit longer.  
  
"Look at me, Liv."  
  
Again, she complied.  
  
The haunted look in her eyes tore his heart to little pieces. The woman he knew was no longer there. All he saw was an innocent, frightened child. Suddenly, he wanted to cry, too, but he knew it was his place to comfort her, so he took a deep breath, stilled his thoughts, and said, "I'm sorry I yelled, and I shouldn't have cursed at you. I was frightened. I'm not ready to go any further right now, and I guess I…freaked out."  
  
He watched her, and was very concerned to see that she continued crying and biting her lip. The frightened deer look still hadn't left her eyes. He let her go back to picking at the knot on his left wrist and noticed that her hands were steadier, but she quickly began to get frustrated again.  
  
"Liv."  
  
He cringed to see her jump at sound of his voice saying her name. He tried again.  
  
"Liv, get a pair of scissors. Cut it loose."  
  
Without a word, she climbed off the bed. She was gone so long he felt a fine mist of panic begin to envelope him. Finally, she returned and still without a word climbed up on the bed and cut him loose. At least she had finally stopped crying, but that sad look shredded his soul.  
  
He sat up and gently took the scissors from her hand and dropped them to the floor under the bed. He wasn't sure then what exactly had happened between them, but he knew they were at a critical moment. She refused to look at him, and he knew better than to try and make her.  
  
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and said, "Liv, don't look so sad. Most of it was lots of fun, and I'm…honored…that you would be willing to find someone to teach you how to do all that for me. I just wasn't ready to go so far so fast. I'm a little claustrophobic," he grinned and finished, "and I'm still afraid of the dark."  
  
Suddenly, she threw herself against him with such force that he lost his breath and she started sobbing. When she started to speak, her words came in a torrent of barely coherent babble.  
  
"Oh, Steve," she wept. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to frighten you. I really wanted you to enjoy tonight, but I'm just no good at this."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently as she continued.  
  
"I wanted this to be really good," she wailed, "but I've totally ruined it. Please, don't be angry. You're the best thing that's ever happened in my life, and I don't want to lose you. Please give me another chance. Please don't leave!"  
  
Raw, terrified sobs shook her slight frame as he continued to rock her and kiss her hair. She continued to beg incoherently until he said, "I'm not going anywhere, Liv. You don't have to worry about that. Just calm down so we can talk."  
  
Slowly, as Steve held her against him and whispered and rubbed her back, she brought her emotions under control. Finally, she reached over to the nightstand and took a tissue with which she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.  
  
In hiccups, she told him, "I just…wanted it…to be fun. I never expected you…to get so upset."  
  
He continued to cradle her to his chest as they talked. "Oh, baby, it was fun until the lights went out. I know you didn't want to frighten me. It's just one of those things. Neither of us could have predicted it."  
  
"So you're not mad?"  
  
"I was for a second, sweetheart, but not any more. You told me to hush. You've never, ever done that before, and I didn't like it." Steve was rambling softly, trying to keep her talking. All of his words were true, but ordinarily he wouldn't have given them voice. He was trying to put some space between them and what had just transpired.  
  
She sat quietly, so he continued. "I've always been able to let my feelings show around you. It felt like you were changing the rules, and it made me mad. But I didn't have any right to swear at you. I know that disturbs you, and I'm sorry."  
  
She sniffed a bit and said in a childish voice, "It's not the cursing that bothers me. It's the yelling. I don't like to be yelled at. It hurts my feelings, and sometimes it frightens me."  
  
He kissed her hair, her temple, and her ear and then asked, "Why does it frighten you?"  
  
She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders and said, "When I was small, sometimes Mama and Daddy would send one or another of us kids to stay with Grandma Gretchen and Grandpa Henry for a few days to visit. He was a drunk, and sometimes he'd get mad and start to yell. When he got tired of yelling, he'd start to hit people." She stuck out her lower lip in a pout.  
  
Steve probed gently, "Did he hit you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
She shook her head no.  
  
"What do you want to do?"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders again.  
  
Steve waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
And fumed.  
  
He wasn't surprised to find Olivia had been abused as a child. For some reason, he felt as if he'd always been aware of it. Perhaps the air of sadness that sometimes surrounded her had tipped him off. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, he'd known before she'd ever told him, and it didn't make him any less angry with the man who had hurt her.  
  
He felt terrible to have upset her so, but he was also relieved that she had finally told him her secret. Surely now that he knew about her past, she would open up to him. She kept insisting that he hardly knew her, but maybe now she would feel safe telling him her thoughts and dreams.  
  
Maybe now, he could ask her to marry him and get her to say yes.  
  
He knew she must be wrestling with some painful memories, and it seemed the best thing he could do for her was just hold her. He was afraid to say anything or even to move too much. He had apparently terrified her as much as she had him, but while his fear had passed quickly after the blindfold had been removed, hers had endured for perhaps thirty years or more. She seemed to feel safe in his arms, so he was willing to shelter her there until she was ready to leave.  
  
For a long time, she just sat in his arms, leaning against him, drawing strength. Her breathing slowed and deepened. She sighed and shifted position. Just when he thought she was drifting off to sleep, she turned and began to nibble on his earlobe.  
  
"Steve," the vibration of her voice so close to his ear made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
She giggled, still nibbling and sucking on his earlobe. "I think I know what I want to do."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm sure." She placed a kiss behind his ear so softly that it made him shiver to the tips of his toes. "I don't want ghosts of the past to haunt the present. Maybe this time, you can show me what you like."  
  
His eyes slid closed for a moment. He grinned, amazed at her resilience, and sighed. "Mmmm-hmmm."  
  
She giggled again and slipped her tongue inside his ear….  
  
Steve snapped back to the present with a start and found that the memories of last night had him strongly aroused. He took several deep breaths. He had promised to take Olivia to Disney World today, and she wanted to get an early start. She could get so giddy over the smallest things. He sometimes wondered how much fun she'd had as a child.  
  
He laid out a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom. When he opened the door, he was enveloped in fragrant steam. He smiled at the scent of lavender. Olivia was singing in the shower, an old Billie Holiday tune.  
  
"All of me, why not take all of me…"  
  
"I'd be glad to," he interrupted, recognizing the fairy voice from his dream and wondering why he'd been dreaming of a fairy.  
  
"Good morning, handsome!" she called over the sound of the shower. "Wanna join me?"  
  
"Do you mean that today? Yesterday I ended up setting the table."  
  
"Oh, I mean it this morning. Come on in, the water's perfect!"  
  
Gladly, he slid the shower door aside and stepped in.  
  
She turned to greet him with a big hug. When she stepped back, she looked down at the obvious sign of his arousal and said, "Well, hello Mr. Happy! Good morning to you, too."  
  
Steve felt himself blush at the sound of her giggle, but he had to laugh with her. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, placed his hands on her shapely derriere, and as he lifted her up to him, gave silent thanks that his strength had fully returned. She was so much shorter than him that making love in the shower would have proven quite a challenge if he had not been able to lift her.  
  
It was a slow, gentle loving. He delighted in each small moan, sigh, and gasp that he elicited from her. By the time the water dancing on their skin went cold, they were both so hot they barely noticed. After their pleasure had peaked, they rinsed quickly and Olivia turned off the water.  
  
"Let's go," she said. "I've been waiting my whole life to meet the mouse."  
  
Weeks ago she had told him of Sunday evenings in her childhood when her whole family would gather around the television with hot chocolate and popcorn to watch Wild Kingdom and The Wonderful World of Disney. He had offered to take her to Disney World then, and she had been begging him ever since to pick a day. Yesterday when he had told her today was the day, she had become almost as excited as when he had returned her great grandmother's watch.  
  
They both stood naked before the bathroom mirror, enjoying the view. She brushed her teeth while he shaved. When Steve looked away from the mirror to admire the view from the back, he noticed a long, red scar to the right of her spine. He ran one finger lightly along it, and Olivia jumped as if she had been burned.  
  
"Sorry, sweetie."  
  
She rinsed and spat and said, "It's all right."  
  
Steve was surprised that he'd never seen the scar before, but then he realized that he'd never seen her naked back. His curiosity got the better of him.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders. He'd begun to notice that she did that whenever she had something difficult to talk about.  
  
"Just a little accident I had when I was a kid."  
  
Steve shook his head and said, "No, hon, that wasn't an accident. I know a surgical scar when I see one." He met her eyes in the reflection in the mirror. "If you don't want to tell me about it, say so, but please don't fib."  
  
She nodded, sighed, and said, "I was eight years old, and Grandpa Henry was drunk. I found him in the garden shed, and I don't remember what I did to set him off, but he knocked me clear across the shed and into the wall. I hit the handle of a scythe and it fell off the nail from which it was hanging. The blade came down on my back and stabbed me through the kidney. I nearly died. They widened the entrance wound to repair the damage, then stitched me up."  
  
She turned to face him and pointed to a scar half an inch long on her abdomen. "It went all the way through me, see? This is where the tip came out."  
  
Steve shuddered involuntarily both at the horror of what had happened and at her innocence in the retelling of it.  
  
"Daddy beat the tar out of Grandpa Henry. Mama left him and us kids for a few months. She was mad that he'd beat up her daddy."  
  
"But it was ok for her father to beat up her children," Steve growled, staring at the reflection of her scarred back in the mirror. "That's shameful."  
  
Olivia took his face between her hands and made him look at her. "Sweetheart," she said, "don't you dare be angry for me. It was almost thirty years ago. Mama came home, she and Daddy made up, and none of us kids ever had to spend the night there again." She trembled as Steve ran a finger along the scar again. "Mama and I made our peace about it. I have forgiven her and Grandpa Henry. I don't have the energy to be angry or to hate them for it any more."  
  
"But, Liv, what they did to you…"  
  
"What they did to me was wrong," she interrupted. "I know that. I was ashamed of it for a long time, and I hated them for it even longer. But hating someone is like burning down your own house to get rid of a rat. You get rid of the people whom you hate by driving them away, but there's nothing left worth having."  
  
"So you just let it go?"  
  
She nodded. "I just let it go. My mama and my grandpa loved me. They couldn't help what they did. If they could, it never would have happened. I can't be angry at them for something that was beyond their control."  
  
"He was a grown man," Steve protested fiercely. "He shouldn't have beaten up on a little kid, and your mother should have protected you."  
  
She shook her head. "He was a kind and loving grandfather who sometimes turned into a mean old drunk. Mama was his little girl and she adored her daddy. They couldn't help themselves. I still loved them, so I had to forgive them."  
  
His expression softened with understanding. "Otherwise there would have been nothing left worth having."  
  
She nodded and smiled.  
  
He threw his arms around her and pulled her close in a savage hug. "No one will ever hurt you again. I promise." 


	28. Not Yet

Lyrics to "Bring on the Rain" Copyright 2000 by Jo Dee Messina  
  
(Chapter 28. New Year's Eve. A fancy restaurant.)  
  
"Steve, sweetie, are you ok?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, fine," he lied. The truth was Steve was more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. Everything tasted like sawdust, and his food lay in his stomach like so much wet cement. He never should have ordered the lasagna, especially after the broschetta and a salad. He smiled, thinking he'd be just fine after dessert. Then it would all be over.  
  
"The lasagna was delicious," Olivia raved. "I've never had better in my life. Grazie," she said as the waiter took her plate. To Steve, she said, "Thank you so much for bringing me here. I haven't had Italian food this good since I was in Italy."  
  
"Well," he said, "Antonio's from the old country, so it ought to be good. Besides, I wanted tonight to be special, hon. We're celebrating."  
  
"Yeah, like everyone else in the world," she grinned. "I'm surprised you could get a table on such short notice."  
  
Steve smiled back, and said, "I know the owner, and we're celebrating more than just the New Year." For the past few days, he'd been very busy, and he'd been keeping his activities a secret from everyone but his dad and Jesse. Tonight, Olivia would know his news.  
  
"Oh, what else are we celebrating?"  
  
Breaking into a huge grin, he said, "I go back to work on Monday."  
  
"Aaah!" She jumped up, came around the table, and hugged him. "Steve! That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!"  
  
All he could do was grin and nod.  
  
Suddenly conscious of the looks they were getting, Olivia blushed and returned to her seat. Steve grinned even wider thinking of the attention she would draw when he gave her the ring.  
  
"You big stinker! That's why you've been busy every time I called to get together, huh? Tell me all about it."  
  
"Well, sweetheart, there's not much to tell. Jesse gave me my final release the day after we went to Disney World, I had already passed the department psych evaluation, and I met the firearms and physical requirements yesterday and today. Are you really happy for me?"  
  
Olivia's face rumpled into a frown.  
  
"Why wouldn't I be happy for you, Steve? You've been working so hard for this for four months."  
  
Steve shrugged and said, "Well, my job's dangerous, and I thought you might be upset that I was actually going back to it."  
  
She reached across the table and took his hand. "Thanksgiving Day on the beach I told you I'd say my prayers and trust God with the rest, remember?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I meant it. I always say exactly what I mean. I love you, Steve, and I know you love your job." She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it. "It's who you are and what you do, and I wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
Steve had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could speak. "You know this time I was lucky."  
  
Olivia shook her head. "No, you were under the protection of Providence. Next time you might not be. So we just have to make every moment count."  
  
Steve laughed slightly, shook his head, and said, mostly to himself, "Amazing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Everybody I know, and I do mean everybody, gets a little weird about the dangerous aspects of my job. Way back when I was in uniform, I even dated another cop, and she decided she couldn't handle the worry. You just accept it. How?"  
  
"Faith."  
  
At his questioning look, Olivia elaborated.  
  
"I told you before, I believe God has a plan for you, for me, and for us. No matter what else happens, we'll be together as long as He wants and as long as we need to be. If He ever decides to separate us, He'll make sure we're both all right. Knowing that God's looking after you, I don't have any reason to worry."  
  
Steve smiled. "I can't imagine having that kind of faith, but I'm so glad you do."  
  
A waiter glided over to their table and asked, "Would the __Signore__ and __Signorina__ like-a to order dessert?"  
  
Steve nodded, "Yes. Actually, I've arranged with Antonio for something special. Just tell him Steve Sloan is ready for dessert, and he'll know what to do."  
  
"__Sí, Signore__," the waiter said and glided smoothly away.  
  
"What are you up to?" Olivia asked suspiciously.  
  
"Wait and see," Steve told her.  
  
Moments later, the waiter returned with a silver tray covered with a large dome. It was an elegant and imposing piece of tableware, and several other diners paused their conversations to see what special dish might be beneath the cover.  
  
"Is it chocolate?" Olivia asked excitedly.  
  
"Even better," Steve told her.  
  
"There is no such thing."  
  
"Take a look."  
  
At a nod from Steve, the waiter lifted the cover from the tray. Olivia's gasp and the ooh's and aah's from curious diners nearby drew the attention of others who were not already watching.  
  
There on the platter sat the tattered, naked teddy bear from Christmas day. Steve had made a small banner that read, "Marry Me" and had painstakingly stitched it to the bear's paws so that he appeared to be holding it up. He leaned against a dark blue velvet box that was opened to reveal a diamond ring.  
  
"Oh, Steve," Olivia said in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's stunning."  
  
After days of searching for the perfect piece with his dad, he'd broken down and had the ring made by the same designer who had made the necklace for Christmas. It was a rush order and it had cost him a small fortune, but this evening would be worth it. The band came up in two nautilus- shaped swirls of white gold on either side of a marquis cut diamond. The one on the left sat below the horizontal axis of the diamond and turned clockwise, and the one on the right sat above the middle and turned counterclockwise. Tiny sapphires and very small pearls glittered along the outermost curve of each swirl. Steve thought it matched the watch and necklace beautifully.  
  
As Olivia picked up the box, Steve came around their table and got down on one knee. He cleared his throat, feeling somewhat unnerved by the audience they had collected.  
  
"It's lovely, Steve. Just lovely." Olivia continued to admire the ring.  
  
When she finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears in her eyes. He was encouraged to know she was so moved.  
  
"Olivia, would you…"  
  
She stopped him gently with a hand on his lips.  
  
"Steve," she said, closing the box.  
  
Steve was painfully aware of the murmurs of dismay in the background as she took his hand, turned it palm up, put the box in his hand, and curled his fingers around it.  
  
"It's absolutely beautiful, but I can't accept it. Not yet."  
  
Suddenly his insides were awash in acid. Hot tears came to his eyes, and there was a tightness in his chest.  
  
Still on one knee, he began to speak. "It's been four and a half months, Liv. We've discussed our future. We used words like 'forever' and 'the rest of our lives.' What are you doing?"  
  
"Steve, I just…"  
  
"DAMN YOU!" he roared in fury, oblivious to the other diners. Surging to his feet, he towered over her and was shamefully pleased to see her cower in fear.  
  
"Four and a half months, Liv," he spat through clenched teeth. "You owned me from the first time I smelled your perfume, and you knew it. You never *once* hinted that you would do this. Four and a half months. You BITCH!"  
  
Anger and hurt coursed through his veins as he threw some bills on the table and said bitterly, "That should cover dinner. You can call your own damned cab."  
  
As he turned to walk away, she leaped up and clung to his arm.  
  
"Steve, please, just…"  
  
He flung her off. She hit the wall with a thud and slumped to the floor weeping.  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
He turned away again and stalked out, leaving her alone on the floor of the restaurant, clinging to the pitiful, naked teddy bear.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark answered the phone on the third ring. He had decided to turn in early expecting to celebrate with Steve and Olivia into the early hours of the morning. He wondered who could be calling, and he hoped it wasn't the hospital.  
  
"MARK!" The voice on the other end of the line was so distraught he didn't know at first who was talking. Then he heard a clatter and a bang and a string of irate Italian in the background.  
  
"Who is this? Amanda? Olivia? Carol? What's wrong?"  
  
"It's ME," the woman sobbed. "Did you know he was going to propose? Why didn't you warn me? Oh, Mark, I've ruined everything. What should I do?"  
  
Olivia started to sob hysterically, and for several moments, Mark was helpless to calm her. In the background he heard an accented voice, "Iss all-a right, __signorina__, Mista Steve, he-a good-a man. He'll come a- back. I know he-a love you. Iss all-a right."  
  
"Antonio!" Mark yelled into the phone, glad now to at least know where she was. "Antonio!"  
  
The accented voice came on the line and the sobbing faded into the background.  
  
"Yes-a, Doctor-a Sloan? What can I do-a you for?"  
  
"I need you to calm Olivia down so I can talk to her. Get her a drink of water. No, make that a shot of whiskey."  
  
"I already tried-a that, Doctor-a Sloan, more than a-once. She's about-a half-a loaded now." There was a huge clatter of pots and pans apparently falling, and a long string of Italian curses.  
  
In spite of himself, Mark had to smile. Profanity sounded the same in any language. Antonio came back on the line.  
  
"You want I should-a give her more-a whiskey, Doctor-a Sloan?"  
  
"No! Antonio, don't do that. Can you get her to someplace quieter than the kitchen? What about your office?"  
  
"Will-a do, Doctor. We're on-a our way a-now."  
  
Mark could hear Antonio soothing Olivia in a mixture of English and Italian, and he thought her heard Olivia respond. Finally, the noise of the kitchen subsided, and Mark heard Antonio say, "You can-a talk to the Doctor a-now?"  
  
Then Antonio came back on the line. "She's a-calm now. Here-a she is."  
  
"Thanks, Antonio."  
  
When Olivia's voice came back on the line, she was clearly upset, but no longer hysterical.  
  
"He proposed, Mark."  
  
"He told me he was going to. You said no."  
  
"I said NOT YET!" There was an ominous silence for a moment, as she struggled at the edge of hysteria. Finally, she resumed speaking. "He was so angry, Mark. He yelled at me and cussed me out and called me names. When I tried to stop him, he knocked me down. I'm afraid of what might happen. He's so upset, I don't know what he might do."  
  
Mark was worried about his son, but there was nothing he could do right now. He needed to make Olivia realize that, too.  
  
"Liv," he said in a voice that belied his own concerns. "You can't do anything about Steve, but you can take care of yourself, and when he comes to his senses, he'll be glad you did. You said he knocked you down. Are you hurt?"  
  
She sniffled into the phone and said, "Maybe some bruises, nothing serious."  
  
"Why didn't you say yes, Liv?"  
  
"Oh, Mark." There was a long pause, followed by her answer in a tone of resignation. "Steve is a man of honor. I couldn't let him make that promise before he knew everything about my past. If he's going to go into this, it has to be with his eyes wide open. No illusions, no misconceptions, and no secrets."  
  
Mark was beginning to hatch a plan, but he needed one more piece of information first. "If he had known everything, would you have said yes, Liv?"  
  
"Of course I would."  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Ok, I think I know what to do. Are you ok to drive home, or did Antonio really get you drunk trying to calm you with whiskey?"  
  
He heard a soft chuckle. "I'm taking a cab, but I'm really 'not-a half-a loaded'."  
  
Mark had to smile again. Even that first day, Steve had admired the way Olivia used humor to ease stress.  
  
"Good. Then take the cab home and wait there. Try to get some rest, but be ready to explain things to Steve. I'm going to see if I can get him to your place tonight."  
  
"Ok. Thanks, Mark."  
  
He hung up the phone and got his cell phone to call Jesse and Amanda. He wanted the regular line free in case Steve tried to reach him. A half an hour later, he hung up the phone with a smirk on his face. Jesse and Amanda had both agreed to help, so wherever Steve went to vent, he would gently be directed back to Olivia. He was fairly certain that if they could get Steve to her house tonight, she could make him understand.  
  
Mark went down to Steve's apartment, packed Steve's overnight bag, and put the charley bar across the sliding glass door. Then, taking the bag and Steve's brace with him, he went upstairs and fastened the deadbolts. He left the door to the deck open for now and stood out in the night air waiting for his son. He had the bag and the brace at his side.  
  
While he waited, Mark wondered repeatedly if he was doing the right thing. He kept coming back to the same two facts. Steve loved Olivia and wanted to marry her. Olivia loved Steve and wanted to marry him, but not before he knew about all the secrets in her past. She had to be the right one. Would any other woman go to such lengths to protect his son?  
  
He was about to start the same argument with himself again when Steve finally appeared at the foot of the stairs.  
  
"Dad? Could you go downstairs and open my door? Something seems to be blocking it shut."  
  
Mark looked down at his son and prayed he was doing the right thing.  
  
"It's the charley bar, son. I locked you out."  
  
In a very puzzled tone, Steve asked, "Why?"  
  
"You need to talk to Olivia, son."  
  
"Don't go there, Dad. It's been a rough night."  
  
"I have to, Steve. I've always tried to stay out of your personal life as much as possible, but I love you, and I can't let you make this mistake. You at least owe her an apology for swearing at her and knocking her down."  
  
"I can do that over the phone in the morning, Dad. Right now I just need some sleep."  
  
Mark tossed Steve's overnight bag down the stairs to land at his feet. Then he dropped the brace on the sand at his side so as not to damage it. "You'll do it in person, tonight, or you'll not be sleeping here."  
  
Mark turned and went into the house without another word. He dropped the charley bar in place and stood there waiting to see what his son would do. After a moment, Steve came bounding up the steps. He came to the glass doors, looked pleadingly at his father, and shouted, "Dad! Dad, why are you doing this to me?"  
  
With a lump in his throat, Mark shouted back through the glass, "Because I love you, and you love her, and the two of you deserve each other." Then Mark drew the curtains and went to bed, though he knew he'd get little sleep that night.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse was watching late-night reruns of Gilligan's Island when the doorbell rang. Mark had called about half an hour ago to say Steve was probably on his way. As he opened the door, he grinned and said, "Right on time."  
  
"Huh?" said a haggard-looking Steve.  
  
"Your dad called and said to expect you about now."  
  
"Oh. Did he tell you I'd be asking to spend the night, too?"  
  
"Yup, and he said to tell you no."  
  
"Look, Jess…"  
  
Jesse stepped aside and jerked his head toward the interior of his apartment. "Come on in for a bit. We need to talk before I send you on your way."  
  
With a sigh, Steve stepped inside and headed for the couch.  
  
"Why are you and Dad conspiring to make me go back to Olivia for more humiliation, Jess? I was hoping for some sympathy, you know?"  
  
"You can forget about sympathy, Steve, and you might as well know Amanda is in on it, too. As for why, well, we have all agreed that you and Olivia are not going to break up just yet." Jesse sat beside his friend and gave him a reassuring slap on the back. "We think you've just suffered a breakdown in communication, and if you talk it out, everything will be ok. She's at home waiting for you, and short of a motel, that's the only place you're going to spend the night."  
  
Steve shook his head stubbornly. "You weren't there, Jess. You don't know. No amount of talking can fix this."  
  
"Then maybe you need to try some listening."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I might not have been there tonight, Steve," Jesse agreed, "but I have been here since August. I didn't have to be in the restaurant to know this was just a misunderstanding. Don't be a fool, buddy. Go to her, hear her out, and fix it."  
  
"Je-ess," Steve pleaded as his voice broke. He looked at his friend with tears in his eyes, but couldn't squeeze another word past the lump in his throat.  
  
Jesse put a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders and nudged him off the couch saying, "Come here, I want you to see something."  
  
Steve reluctantly followed Jesse back to the bedroom where Jesse opened a drawer and took out a small box, which he opened to reveal a glittering diamond ring.  
  
"I've had this for over a year, but I'm afraid to give it to Susan."  
  
"Trust me, Jess," Steve said bitterly. "It's not worth the risk."  
  
"Maybe not for me right now," Jesse agreed, "but for you I think it is."  
  
"Jesse, she turned me down flat. She didn't even let me ask the question."  
  
Jesse pursed his lips in thought and finally said, "You were angry and hurt, and you totally lost it. You didn't let her finish what she had to say, did you?"  
  
"Dammit, Jess, she said no. What more was there?"  
  
Jesse closed the velvet-covered box and put it away again. "Did she really say no, or did you just hear no, Steve?"  
  
Steve wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What does it matter?" He threw his hands in the air, "She still rejected me."  
  
"With Liv, it could mean a lot. Think about the misunderstanding you two had the day you helped her unpack. That almost led to a disaster. Don't let this be another one. You told me yourself, she's very literal, direct, and plain spoken. There's a big difference between 'no', and 'not right now.' If she didn't want to marry you, she would have said 'no'. What did she really say?"  
  
Pure panic crossed Steve's face. "Oh, dear God, Jess. I don't know."  
  
Staring hard into Steve's eyes, he said, "Think, about it! What were her exact words?"  
  
Steve waved one hand in the air beside his head, trying to grasp the memory of those words. When he caught it, he snapped his fingers. "She said, 'not yet,' Jess! My God, it wasn't a no, it was 'not yet.'"  
  
He started babbling excitedly. "Thank you so much, Jess. I have to go. Call my dad, and for God's sake call Liv. Tell her I'm coming."  
  
Jesse laughed out loud and called to his friend's quickly retreating back, "I'm on it!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Steve arrived at Olivia's house, the stereo was blasting so loud she couldn't hear him knock. He peeked through a gap in the curtains at the window beside the door and saw her dancing to the music. She had her arms wrapped around herself, the teddy bear nestled against her breast. He used his key to let himself in.  
  
"Tomorrow's another day," Olivia sang with the stereo. "And I'm thirsty anyway, so bring on the rain…"  
  
Holding the bear in one hand, she threw her arms open and her head back, and she started to twirl slowly in the center of the room. She looked perfectly at ease and secure in the knowledge that whatever went wrong in her world would soon right itself. He envied her that calm. As he watched, unheeded, he became transfixed, and slowly, her tranquility seeped into him. His breathing deepened, his heartbeat slowed, and his troubled thoughts stilled. A sense of peace washed over him, and he knew without question that everything would work out between them.  
  
He called her name above the music.  
  
She stopped her spin and walked over to him, still swaying and singing along with the music. She didn't stop walking until she stood against him. Then she wrapped her arms around him, her hands coming up to embrace his shoulders. He slung his arms low around her hips and lifted her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and sang.  
  
"Tomorrow's another day, and I am not afraid. So bring on the rain."  
  
Steve recognized the song as one of her favorites. She said it celebrated life's difficulties and reveled in the strength to endure them. He continued to dance and sway to the music while holding her in his arms. He worked his way across the room, and as the song ended, she reached out and cut the stereo off.  
  
Still holding her, he whispered into her hair, "Forgive me?"  
  
She shifted herself against him and purred, "Of course."  
  
"We need to talk, don't we?"  
  
He felt her nod and heard her say, "A lot. But not tonight. Let's go to the kitchen. I have tea ready."  
  
He carried her to the kitchen, still swaying to the tune she was humming, and set her back on her feet. She reached up and pulled his face to hers and gave him a kiss that was so sweet and loving it filled him up and left him wanting all at the same time.  
  
She poured two cups of tea, doctored them with milk and sugar, set out some graham crackers, and sat down to face him.  
  
For a while, she just stirred her tea and stared at the whirlpool she created in her cup. Finally, she said, "Did you know I speak five languages?"  
  
He was surprised by her non sequitur and just said, "Really?"  
  
She nodded. "English, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and German."  
  
"No kidding."  
  
She folded her hands and rested them on the table in front of her. "I really do, fluently. It's a gift, but I still don't have the words to say how much I love you or to describe how happy you make me. The Spanish have an expression, _media naranja_. Literally, it means half an orange, but really, it means 'the one who completes me'. It's as close as I can come to what you mean to me, but you do more than make me whole. You make me feel, and want, and need, and give. You've brought me back into the world and made me a part of it again. You make me love, Steve, and I haven't been able to do that in years. I've been afraid."  
  
She looked up, and Steve could see tears shimmering in her eyes.  
  
"Then why didn't you say yes, Liv?"  
  
She looked down again. It was obvious she found it difficult to look him in the eye.  
  
"You asked too soon."  
  
"I don't understand, Liv."  
  
She twiddled her thumbs and studied her nails for a long time before answering.  
  
"There are things, terrible things, I haven't told you."  
  
He reached out and stilled her fidgeting hands. She drew away.  
  
With a sigh, he said, "Sweetheart, you've told me about what your granddad did and how you feel about it. You told me all about Keith and Ted, and about trying to kill yourself. I'm still here. If I haven't left yet, what makes you think something else will make me go?"  
  
"Oh, Steve!" she wailed rising from the table. She walked to the glass door that opened onto the deck and stood looking out at the night. "In the grand scheme of things, that was just the little stuff. Until I met you, my life was a complete disaster. For years, I just wanted to die, and when I couldn't manage to kill myself, I just stopped feeling. I stopped caring."  
  
He could see her shoulders tremble. She turned to face him, and drew her arms tightly around herself.  
  
"Then I fell for you. I can't let you make any kind of promises to me until you know what a mess I really am. I'm afraid, Steve. I'm afraid if you really knew me that you'd run the other way. I can't let you get any closer until I tell you everything, but I'm afraid if I tell you everything, I'll lose you. I keep trying to give myself to you completely, Steve," she tapped her chest with her fist, "but that means giving you all of this, too, and I'm afraid it's more of a burden than you'll be willing to accept."  
  
He rose from his seat and went to put his arms around her, but she stepped back.  
  
"I asked my dad about your past. He didn't tell me anything, but he said I'd be able to handle everything you would tell me."  
  
"Your dad thinks he knows all about it, but he's wrong. He knows all the facts, Steve, but not the truth. I've never told anyone the truth. I've got to tell you, or I'll never be able to love you the way I need to."  
  
Steve's heart grieved to see Olivia suffer so intensely, but he didn't know what to do. He decided to ask.  
  
"What do you want of me, Liv? Name it."  
  
She thought a minute. Steve saw it in her eyes the moment she reached a decision.  
  
"Give me the ring."  
  
Confused, he took it out of his pocket and handed it to her.  
  
She took him by the hand and led him through the house and to the garage. She went directly to the repugnantly pink jeep, opened the glove box, and threw the ring inside. Then she shut the glove box, turned to Steve, and said, "Pretend tonight never happened. I need…six weeks. I promise I'll tell you everything, and in six weeks, if you still want to ask, I'll say yes. If you don't want to ask me, you can take the ring, walk away, and forget about me, or we can still be friends, whatever you want, but for now, tonight never happened. Neither of us owes the other anything."  
  
Hesitantly, Steve agreed, "Ok…"  
  
Olivia hopped up and sat on the hood of the jeep.  
  
"I'll be asking you to do some things that might seem strange to you, and we're going to have to make a trip. There are things I have to tell you that I just can't talk about here. You'll have to go home with me. It'll be a long trip, at least a couple of weeks. I know you haven't even really gone back to work yet, so if time off is a problem, you can take an unpaid leave and I'll cover your expenses, but you have to come back east with me."  
  
Steve frowned, but said, "Agreed. Liv, I'll do whatever it takes. I just want to know we'll be together forever. Just tell me what you need."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I need six weeks."  
  
"Six weeks?"  
  
"Yes. It will take me at least that long to work out how to tell you my story."  
  
He nodded. "Ok. Six weeks."  
  
"Meet me in my office at quarter to one on Thursday. Plan to spend the whole afternoon with me. We'll start there."  
  
"Right…Uh, Liv?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Can I spend the night?"  
  
She smiled shyly. "I was hoping you'd ask."  
  
Steve spent the night in Olivia's bed, holding her close, and keeping watch. Every time she stirred in her sleep, he'd hush her. He counted six nightmares. She'd weep and cry out, and scream for her parents and siblings, but she never woke. He didn't know what terrible secrets were trying to pull her away from him, but he wasn't going to let them win. No ghost or nightmare from her past would pull them apart. He was in her life to stay, and in six weeks, he would get that ring out of the glove box of the jeep and ask her to marry him.  
  
He was certain he would ask.  
  
He was even more certain she would say yes.  
  
He had faith. 


	29. Sitting in the Sun

(Chapter 29. January third. CGH.)  
  
Steve arrived at the hospital at twenty minutes before one, easily found a parking spot, and got to Olivia's office promptly at twelve forty-five. At first the captain had thrown a fit when Steve told him he would be needing more time off, but when Steve closed the office door and explained why, it was another matter. The captain was utterly devoted to his own wife, and understood what a man could go through when his heart was troubled.  
  
"I can't give you any vacation right now, Sloan, so it will have to be a leave of absence. You need to take care of this so it doesn't have you preoccupied anymore. I want you to settle this so you can give the job your full attention and stay alive and do it right. Good luck, and let me know as soon as you schedule that trip."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
And that's all there was to it. Steve would go to the office every morning, and when Olivia needed him, he'd take the afternoons off. He'd work until she decided to go back east, then he would take some time off and go with her.  
  
He'd only been waiting a minute when Olivia arrived and wrapped him in a hug. She unlocked the door, invited him in, and offered him a seat. As usual, she got right to the point.  
  
"You know I've had some pretty bad things happen in my past, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you know I've tried to kill myself four times, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I do."  
  
"And you understand that that's not even the worst of my troubles, right?"  
  
"I understand that you think that's not the worst of your troubles. Not knowing what the rest are, I can't say for sure, but I know there's more and that you think it might change my mind about you and us."  
  
Olivia rested her elbows on the desk, folded her hands under her chin, and thought a moment. Then she nodded and said, "Good enough."  
  
She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Steve, I carry around more baggage than a skycap on a holiday weekend, and I have more hang-ups than a broken answering machine. This afternoon you're going to learn more about the reasons why."  
  
"Ok. I'm ready."  
  
She nodded and said, "I hope so. Something happened to me when I was a kid for which I needed to see a psychiatrist. Then for a while, I didn't see one, but after my misadventures in the woods with Ted and Keith, I needed help again, and for the past twelve years, I have been seeing a psychiatrist at least once a week."  
  
Steve tried to reassure her. "As far as I'm concerned, seeing a shrink is no different than a diabetic taking insulin or an asthmatic using an inhaler. You're doing what you need to do to stay healthy. There have been times when something at work has caused me to need help. Please don't think I'd judge you because of that. I'll do anything to help."  
  
She smiled brightly. "Thanks, Steve. What you see today might make you uncomfortable," she said, "but I need for you to understand what this involves."  
  
"Any time you want me there, I will be."  
  
She stood up and extended a hand to him. He accepted it, and he let her lead him through the hospital to the psychiatric unit. There they went to one of the offices, greeted the receptionist and were shown in to the doctor's main office. It was a good-sized room with deep pile carpet and burgundy leather furniture. A mahogany desk and bookstand filled much of the room, and a few green plants completed the picture.  
  
They waited a few minutes in uneasy silence. Then the doctor came in.  
  
"Steve," Olivia introduced them, "this is doctor Peter Gregg. Peter, Steve Sloan."  
  
"Mark's son, right?"  
  
Steve nodded, "That's right."  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from your dad. He's very proud of you."  
  
Steve blushed slightly and said, "Thank you."  
  
The three of them sat. Dr. Gregg and Steve took armchairs, and Olivia sat cross-legged on the couch.  
  
"Olivia?" Dr. Gregg asked, "Do you want to begin?"  
  
She addressed Steve in a tremulous voice. "Before we get started, there's something you need to know. I'll tell you what I can now, and the re--" She paused to regain her composure. "I'll tell you the rest later, but I can't answer a lot of questions about it right now, ok?"  
  
Steve nodded and agreed, "Whatever you want, Liv."  
  
She closed her eyes and began. "When I was…twelve years old…my entire family died…in a house fire… Mama and Daddy, the boys, my little sister. They…" Her voice broke. "They were just gone. I'm the only one left."  
  
Steve moved to comfort her, but Dr. Gregg held him back. "Let her do this," he whispered. "She'll ask if she needs you."  
  
Steve reluctantly sat back in his chair.  
  
"It wasn't my fault, and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. It took me…six years…to admit that fact, and another four to really believe it." Her fingers picked at one of the tacks on the arm of the couch. She continued as if this little speech had been rehearsed. "In the meantime, I was so eaten up by guilt and grief I tried three times to kill myself. I have at various times in the past taken antidepressants and tranquilizers, but I've never been committed to a psychiatric hospital."  
  
She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him. "I haven't been on meds for the past ten years," she said. "That's something I'm really proud of."  
  
Steve smiled back. "You've found out how strong you are."  
  
"Sometimes I don't feel so strong, but I have found a faith that lifts me up when I fall down."  
  
"It lifts up you, and those around you, sweetie," he told her.  
  
She looked at Dr. Gregg for encouragement, and he nodded for her to continue.  
  
"I brought you here today, Steve, because I want you to see what it takes for me to be the person I am outside this office."  
  
When she saw his troubled frown, she elaborated.  
  
"What you normally see is not an act. I don't pretend to be happy or excited or anything. The emotions you see are real, but I still have a lot of grief, guilt, and self-doubt that I put in an imaginary box. This is the only place I allow myself to open that box. I have to live this way because if I didn't, the negative emotions would overrun my life."  
  
"So you come here to let those bad feelings out," Steve suggested.  
  
She nodded. "And to talk about my concerns and discuss issues I'm facing. Every once in a while, some darkness spills out of the box and gets resolved, and goes away. Over the years, the inside of the box has gotten lighter and lighter. Some day, all the shadows will be gone. Then I can throw the box away."  
  
Steve smiled encouragingly. "That's the funny thing about darkness, Liv. It disappears in the light."  
  
She smiled back. "Exactly."  
  
She took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch.  
  
"Most days, I just come to Dr. Gregg for a quick visit to say hello and chat a bit, but other days, I call ahead and explain a problem I want to explore with him. Those days, he schedules a larger block of time for me. Today is going to be a tough day, Steve. I particularly chose to bring you here today for two reasons. First, I expect today to be about as bad as it gets. If you can handle what you see today, you should be able to handle the rest. Also, the issue I am dealing with concerns you and your dad and friends. I want you to know…what's going on inside me when I'm with all of you."  
  
"God, Liv. If I've caused you any pain…"  
  
"No, Steve, you've done nothing to hurt me. This problem isn't really about you. It's about me and how I feel about you."  
  
"Ok. I think I get it."  
  
"If not, you will," she promised. "Now, I'm going to go under hypnosis. It helps me deal with tough issues. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in bad feelings that I can't look outside of what's in my own head. Do you understand?"  
  
"Do you mean it calms you down so you can think about why you're feeling what you're feeling?"  
  
"Yeah, but more importantly, it lets me examine my emotions and decide whether they are reasonable or just an overreaction."  
  
"Ok. I understand."  
  
"If not, you will," she told him again. "Now, the first question Dr. Gregg is going to ask is if I really want you here. If I say no, please don't be hurt or offended. It just means that I'm not ready to let you see everything that's in the box. I've been working up to this for weeks now, and I think I'm ready, but I'm not sure. Understand?"  
  
Steve nodded.  
  
"If you feel too uncomfortable with what you see, just leave, but don't say anything. I'd appreciate it if you'd stick around the hospital so we can talk when I'm done, ok?"  
  
He nodded again.  
  
"Ok. Here we go."  
  
Olivia settled back comfortably in the couch, closed her eyes, and started breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. When she exhaled, her lips formed what he thought was a delightfully kissable little "o". Suddenly, he felt ashamed to be lusting after her when she was placing herself in such a vulnerable position just so she could let herself get closer to him. He looked at Dr. Gregg and asked, "Shouldn't you be swinging a watch or something?"  
  
The doctor laughed and said, "That's a common misconception. A focal point is helpful, but not necessary, especially with patients like Liv. She's been practicing self-hypnosis for years, and she can have herself under in less than a minute."  
  
"Oh." Steve tried to match his own breathing to hers and found her respiration had slowed and deepened to a point where he was physically unable to follow her pace.  
  
Soon Dr. Gregg asked, "Liv? You ready?"  
  
With no trace of emotion in her voice, she said, "Yes."  
  
"You know Steve is here today, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you want him to stay?"  
  
A pause, "Yes."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes." There was no hesitation this time.  
  
"Do you remember what you said you wanted to explore with me today?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Steve began to realize that the one-word answers were part of the calming technique Olivia and Dr. Gregg used. He was giving her a chance to ease into the issue.  
  
"Explain it for me."  
  
She paused. "It's hard to put into words."  
  
"Try, Liv. Take your time. Identifying the problem is the first step in solving it."  
  
She nodded.  
  
Her lovely, calm face rumpled into a frown.  
  
"I love Steve and his family--Mark, Jesse, Amanda, and Carol so much. I feel like I have a real family again."  
  
Steve felt a surge of pain and anger. How could she possibly think loving him was a "problem"?  
  
Dr. Gregg seemed to be sharing his thoughts, because he asked, "Why does that trouble you, Liv?"  
  
She shrugged, "I don't know."  
  
"Don't know, or don't want to answer?"  
  
She shrugged again and said nothing.  
  
Steve was surprised at how calm she was. She had said that it was going to be a rough day, and so far, it had been rather dull. He didn't realize things were about to change.  
  
Dr. Gregg asked, "How do you think your family feels about your loving these people?"  
  
Much to Steve's surprise, a tear slipped down her cheek.  
  
"I think they resent it, and I'm afraid they hate me for it. I think they feel like I've forgotten them, but I haven't. I'm so tired of being alone, and I've found good people who care about me."  
  
She ran her fingers through her hair, covered her head with her hands, and began to rock.  
  
"I've found something that makes me really happy, and I'm not going to give it up!" she wailed.  
  
"Would your family want you to, Liv?" the doctor asked.  
  
She stopped rocking and thought for a minute.  
  
"I don't know, but it doesn't matter," she said petulantly. "I feel like a whole person again. I have real people who love me instead of just memories, and it feels good! I have a right to feel good…" she struggled to get the words out. "I have a right to feel good and happy and loved!"  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Do you really believe that?"  
  
Sobs shook her body for several minutes. Steve stood to go to her, but the doctor motioned him to sit. He seethed quietly, watching her weep, but the doctor did not continue until she had calmed down considerably.  
  
"Do you really believe you have a right to be happy and loved?"  
  
"No," she whimpered.  
  
Steve's heart broke for her. The back of his throat burned with tears wanting to fall for her.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I'm still alive and that should be enough."  
  
Her weeping crescendoed again. She screamed and wailed her grief. Steve looked to Dr. Gregg for permission to comfort her, but the doctor shook his head no. Steve clenched his teeth and watched as Olivia fought twin demons of guilt and grief. She was not the woman he had known for four months. Even when she had told him about Ted, she had never raged like this. She looked like a mad woman, tearing her hair and gnashing her teeth.  
  
The outburst went on and on until she grew too tired to continue. Finally, she calmed down again, and the doctor spoke.  
  
"Why would it bother your family that you have people to care for you?"  
  
Steve was enraged when he began again with questions instead of words of comfort, but he had gotten the message. Olivia and Dr. Gregg engaged in this sort of give-and-take on a regular basis, and he was not to interfere. He might get angry with the doctor, but whatever happened, he would not leave unless Olivia asked.  
  
"I think…my family might be angry…that they're being replaced." Her words came between hiccups and sniffles. "My happiness…is in the present now, and they're…in the past."  
  
She broke down again.  
  
"I deserve to be happy, don't I?" she pleaded.  
  
Steve's guts were in knots. It was killing him not to be able to help.  
  
"Everyone does, Olivia," Dr. Gregg finally reassured her.  
  
After Olivia quieted again, the doctor asked.  
  
"That's why loving Steve is a problem, isn't it? Because he and his family are making you happy now and your family's gone."  
  
Tears were still dripping from her face. She sniffled and said in a childish voice, "Uh-huh."  
  
"Liv," said the doctor gently, "let's talk about how your family would feel about each of your new friends. Start with Beth. Would she like them?"  
  
Olivia smiled warmly through her tears.  
  
"Beth would adore them all. I've seen Steve and Jesse with Amanda's boys, and they're both so good with kids. She'd think they're a lot of fun. Amanda's so sweet and gentle, Beth'd want to sit in her lap for a story, but she'd really latch onto Mark. Beth's smart as a whip, and Mark would indulge her curiosity. She'd cling to him for everything he would teach her."  
  
Steve did some quick mental math and realized that if Beth were alive she would be in her early thirties. He figured it was probably natural for Olivia to think of her family as they were the last time they were alive, but he was mildly amused at the thought of a thirty-year-old woman sitting in Amanda's lap with a storybook.  
  
"So Beth would like your friends?"  
  
Olivia grinned, "Oh, my God, yes."  
  
"How about Andy?"  
  
She chuckled.  
  
"He's so much like Jesse. They would either get along famously or bicker all the time. The first thing Andy would want to do is get Steve to teach him to surf. Mark and Amanda would humor him, and he'd like them fine."  
  
"And Pauly?"  
  
Olivia's good humor fell away instantly.  
  
"Pauly has always been in trouble. If they tried to keep him out of it, he'd resent the hell out of them."  
  
Steve was surprised at the mild expletive. He'd never heard Olivia swear before.  
  
"If they got him out of trouble, he wouldn't appreciate it, and he'd try to use Steve to cover his tail if he did something really wrong. Of course, Steve would never do that, and Pauly would try to drag me into the middle of it."  
  
"So Pauly would have nothing positive to say about any of them?"  
  
She thought for a minute.  
  
"Well…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Pauly always defended me when the other kids would pick on me. I was an easy target because I was so small, and he'd whup their behinds if they didn't leave me alone. I think he'd appreciate the fact that Steve, Jesse, Amanda, and Mark would take up for me if I needed help. He might use them and manipulate them, but he'd thank them for taking care of me."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"Well, he'd also be glad that Steve's such a decent guy. Pauly knew he was a hell-raiser, and he knew what grief he put the family through, but he wouldn't stand for anyone else hurting us. Once he said if a troublemaker like him ever came 'sniffing around' me he'd kick his butt and beat mine if he caught me talking to the creep. He'd be glad they're all decent, clean- living people."  
  
"Would he resent their relationship with you?"  
  
"No." She shook her head. "He'd resent their trying to help him, but he wouldn't mind them being my friends."  
  
"What about John-John?"  
  
"What do you think?" she asked angrily.  
  
"I don't know, Liv." Dr. Gregg said. "He's your brother."  
  
"How the hell did that happen? I'd like to know." Tossing her head as she spoke each name, Olivia listed the problems. "Amanda's black, Steve's a cop, Jesse's…I don't know. Just the way he is would get on John-John's nerves, and Mark's nosey. He'd hate them all. John-John's an ignorant ass."  
  
Steve was stunned. He'd never realized race was an issue in Olivia's family, and he hadn't thought that her family might not share her feelings about his being a cop. Moreover, he was appalled at how much she seemed to resent her brother. He had thought she was close to all her family.  
  
"So," asked Dr. Gregg, "does it bother you to think how he might feel about your friends?"  
  
"Hell, yes!"  
  
Steve could see she was becoming increasingly agitated again. The biggest surprise to this point had been her use of profanity, but so far, she had managed to regain her composure each time she lost it. Frankly, he found himself more comfortable with her anger than he was with her grief and guilt.  
  
"John-John might be a jackass, but he's my brother, and I love him in spite of himself. It hurts me…" Her voice cracked and she had to start over, "It hurts me to think that he would despise people I love so much."  
  
She had wrapped her arms around herself and started rocking on the couch again. "Sometimes I still hate him for being that way. He was a bigot and a bully, and he wasn't good to the family or to me either. I don't think Steve and the gang would have thought much of him."  
  
"How do you feel about that, Liv?"  
  
She continued rocking and weeping for several moments before she answered. "I'm stuck in the middle. It's hard to love someone who's so hateful, but it's hard not to love your own brother. John-John always made things so damned difficult."  
  
Steve noticed he was clenching his fists. He felt ridiculous being angry with a dead man, but he was furious. He wondered just what John-John had done to complicate things for Olivia in the past.  
  
Dr. Gregg let her weep for a few moments then probed gently.  
  
"Olivia?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What is the problem here? Is it your problem, or John-John's? Or is there more than one?"  
  
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. The raw emotions tore at Steve's heart as she wailed, "I DON'T KNOW!"  
  
Steve fought the urge to take her in his arms as Dr. Gregg gently but relentlessly pursued the issue.  
  
"Do you want John-John to like your friends?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Do you need him to like them?"  
  
She didn't answer for so long that the doctor repeated his question.  
  
"Liv, do you need John-John to like your friends? Do you need his approval?"  
  
Reluctantly she said, "No, I care what he thinks, but he's not that important. I have to live my life for me."  
  
"Then tell me, Liv," Dr. Gregg demanded kindly, "what is the problem concerning John-John?"  
  
"I want him to know that I still love him even though my friends are people he would loathe."  
  
"Why do you think he would doubt your love, Olivia?"  
  
She bit her lips and wrung her hands. Several times, she began to sob and calmed herself again. Finally, she took a deep breath and answered the question.  
  
"Because I don't think he ever knew he had my love to begin with. I wouldn't have chosen him if I'd had a choice. I never really liked him, but I did love him."  
  
She hunched over, looking small and helpless, and Steve caught himself weeping to see her in so much turmoil. Dr. Gregg allowed her to cry for several minutes. Steve sat silently, his heart aching. Now he understood why she said it would be a rough day. Finally, Dr. Gregg took up the discussion again.  
  
"Do you want to talk more about your relationship with John-John?"  
  
Olivia wiped her nose on the back of her wrist. "No. Not today."  
  
"Ok, then. Put it in the box and we'll deal with it another time."  
  
Olivia sat up straight, folded her hands in her lap, and took several deep breaths. Her lower lip trembled for several moments. She shook her head, took another breath, let it out, and said, "Ok. It doesn't matter how John- John would feel about my friends. I can love them and love him."  
  
"And you're ok with that?" Dr. Gregg asked.  
  
She nodded, "Yes."  
  
"Ok. Can we continue?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Would Benny like your friends?"  
  
"Jesse would annoy him, because Benny is so sedate, but he wouldn't actively dislike Jesse. Benny would enjoy hearing about Steve's cases, he's always loved a mystery, and he would probably want to help Mark, Jesse, and Amanda with one of their schemes to help Steve crack a case. He'd also enjoy hunting and fishing with Steve, and he'd love to watch Amanda do an autopsy. He's always been fascinated by the way living things work."  
  
She smiled.  
  
"Benny's a lot like Steve…serious, methodical, fiercely protective. They'd be good friends."  
  
"That makes you happy, doesn't it?"  
  
Her smile widened.  
  
"Yeah. Real happy."  
  
Steve found himself smiling, too, and wishing he'd had the opportunity to meet Benny. He got the sense they were in the home stretch. Olivia was working through her problem today.  
  
"How would your mama feel about your friends?"  
  
"Oh, really," Olivia answered almost conversationally. "You don't even need to ask. Mama would love them all. They're good, honest, decent people, and they treat me well, and that's all that matters to her."  
  
"Good. What about your daddy?"  
  
"Hmm…"  
  
She thought for a minute.  
  
"It's hard to tell."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, Daddy is illiterate. He's smart, but he never learned to read and write. I think Amanda and Steve would be sensitive to that and everything would be ok with them, but Jesse sometimes speaks before he thinks, and he might say something to hurt Daddy's feelings. Daddy would understand that it was just a slip, and he'd get over it eventually, but I'm afraid of what Mark might do."  
  
Steve felt a flash of anger and resentment. His father would never intentionally do anything to offend Olivia's dad, and he felt she should know that. He took a deep breath to quell his emotions and listened to what she had to say.  
  
"What would Mark do?"  
  
"Well, I've noticed sometimes Mark likes to show off how smart he is. It's actually kind of amusing, but when he gets smug it can be rather annoying."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what Olivia was saying. He'd seen it countless times, but he still didn't understand what his father could do that would be so horrible.  
  
"Daddy's just as smart as Mark, but he's never had the opportunity for an education. He grew up dyslexic in a time and place where kids with learning disabilities were labeled either stupid or lazy. He's always been very sensitive about his ignorance. Sometimes, he'd ask me to read to him from one of my schoolbooks, but…" she paused for a deep, steadying breath and continued. "But if anyone came in, I had to pretend he was helping me with my schoolwork. I think I might have been the only one who knew he couldn't read. Mama probably suspected, but I don't think he ever told her."  
  
She started to weep again, and Steve choked up. He could see where she was going now, and he felt her sympathy for her father. Her father had been cheated of the opportunities his dad had enjoyed.  
  
"Daddy ran a farm for thirty years and raised six children. Farmers are not stupid people. He could quote the entire King James Bible chapter and verse, even all the begats in Genesis. I know, because he made me read it to him over and over until he memorized it. He knew all the lines to Inherit the Wind, and he could play any song he ever heard on the piano. But he was uneducated. All Mark would have to do would be put on that air of superiority one time, and he would make Daddy feel about two inches tall. Daddy would resent it forever."  
  
Steve felt as if he'd been clobbered with a brick. He'd always somewhat enjoyed watching his dad make criminals look stupid. He'd never realized that Mark's little routine could be hurtful to someone. Granted, there were times when he felt frustrated that his dad would make him feel foolish as he led him to a conclusion he hadn't seen before, but it had never bothered him for long.  
  
"Do you think Mark would do that to your dad?"  
  
"Not if he knew how sensitive Daddy was, but unless I told him, he'd find it impossible to resist."  
  
"What would happen if you forewarned Mark about your dad's situation?"  
  
Olivia thought a moment.  
  
"Mark is a kind man. He'd understand, and he'd never do anything to belittle Daddy. Eventually I think Daddy would learn to trust Mark, and then he would use the relationship to educate himself. I think Mark would enjoy that, too, because he likes helping others. But if daddy were alive, telling someone about his problems, that's kind of like betraying a trust."  
  
"So you're saying you wouldn't tell anyone that your dad was illiterate."  
  
"Well, I don't know. I guess I'd find a way to tell them without really telling them. It's not really honorable, but I could live with it."  
  
"Ok, and you think all your friends would be sensitive to your dad's situation."  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"So is there a problem?"  
  
"I…I guess not."  
  
"Are your friends really replacing your family, Liv?"  
  
After a long silence, she shook her head and said, "No."  
  
"And for the most part, your family would find something to like about all of them, wouldn't they?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you can accept the fact that john-John is the way he is and because of that he won't like any of them, can't you?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Then what's the problem?"  
  
Olivia became perfectly still. She sat there for the longest time, then said, "I don't know."  
  
Very softly, Dr. Gregg said, "I don't believe you. What is the problem, Liv? The real problem."  
  
She sat still. Steve noticed her breathing speeding up slightly. Her hands began to fidget, and tears slipped down both cheeks again. She started to rock back and forth.  
  
"Liv…"  
  
"They're dead!" She wailed, "They're all dead, and I've never been happier in my life! How dare I be so happy when they're dead? It's…it's obscene! It's wrong. Being alive should be enough; I don't have the right to expect anything more. Oh, God, I'm so ashamed!" The last wail degenerated into sobs.  
  
Steve felt his chest tighten. All along, she'd been holding back because she felt guilty for being happy. Dear God, how hard it must have been for her! He wondered if he could have done something to make it easier. Dr. Gregg let her cry for a long time. He didn't hush her or try to soothe her, but to his credit, she still had his undivided attention.  
  
Very gradually, the sobs gave way to sniffles. Finally, she gave a big sigh and said, "Why do I feel so guilty?"  
  
"You tell me, Liv," Dr. Gregg said softly.  
  
She shrugged.  
  
The doctor waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
When she spoke, her voice held no emotion. "Beth never got to grow up. She was only nine years old when it happened. None of the boys ever fell in love or got married. Mama and Daddy never had grandchildren. I've had a good life, and they never got to share it."  
  
"Is that your fault, Liv?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Would your family want you to give up your happiness just because they weren't there? Would they want you to feel sad and cry for the rest of your life?"  
  
Again, she shook her head no.  
  
"Are you afraid you'll forget them in your happiness?"  
  
After a long pause, she nodded slowly.  
  
"What can you do to keep that from happening?"  
  
She spoke softly. "Talk about them, keep their pictures around, remember them in my prayers…"  
  
"You already do all of that, don't you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"What else?"  
  
She shrugged. "There's my book," she said humbly. "It's not much, just a bunch of stories about things that happened while they were alive, but when it gets published the whole world will know about them. I just got an advance check, and I'm going to give it to the clinic back home, in their names."  
  
"That sounds like a nice tribute," Dr. Gregg said.  
  
Olivia nodded and gave a soft smile.  
  
"Then what's the problem?"  
  
She thought about it a long time. When she answered, it was in a tiny voice.  
  
"My friends here don't know what happened. I have to be so careful in what I say so they don't ask questions that are too hard to answer. Sometimes it's just easier not to say anything."  
  
"Would it be easier to remember them if your friends knew what had happened?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"What can you do about that?"  
  
"Tell them," she whispered.  
  
"Are you ready to do that?"  
  
"Mark, and now Steve, already know about the fire. I want to tell Steve more, but I don't think I can tell Jesse and Amanda."  
  
Steve knew he shouldn't jump in, but he couldn't help himself.  
  
"Liv, it's Steve. Would it be easier if I told them?"  
  
Dr. Gregg glared at him but didn't say anything. Olivia's face brightened.  
  
"Would you?"  
  
"When you're ready, if you want."  
  
"Ok."  
  
There was a long silence. Dr. Gregg broke it.  
  
"Olivia? Have we finished with this issue?"  
  
She smiled, "Yes."  
  
"Can you tell me what we've resolved?"  
  
"If I can tell Steve and his friends all about what happened to my family, then I can talk about them and remember them. If I remember them, I can be happy and not feel guilty, because their memories will be alive in me."  
  
"Would your family be ok with that?"  
  
She nodded. "I think that's what they would want. I'm allowed to love someone again. I have a right to be happy, and I don't think any of them would object."  
  
"Ok. Do we need to put this shadow back in the box, or is it gone?"  
  
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She grinned broadly. "It's gone."  
  
"Ok. In that case, I want you to sit in the sun for a minute. Then when I count to ten, wake up, ok?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm."  
  
Steve watched as her breathing deepened again. She seemed more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. As Dr. Gregg counted, her breathing became normal. On ten, her eyes opened and she looked right at Steve.  
  
"You're still here."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Are we ok?"  
  
He smiled. "Yep."  
  
"Good." She turned to Dr. Gregg and said, "I don't want to talk about John- John for a while. It's going to be hard to deal with, and I'm not up to it right now."  
  
Dr. Gregg nodded. "I think that's a wise decision, Liv, but there is something I'm going to ask you to do."  
  
She looked very nervous, but she asked, "What's that?"  
  
"Next time we meet…say Monday afternoon?"  
  
Olivia nodded.  
  
"I want you to be able to tell me when and where and how you're going to tell Steve all about the fire. I think when the time comes, it will go easier on you if you rehearse it first."  
  
"I think you're right, Peter. I'll give it a lot of thought this weekend."  
  
Turning to Steve, the doctor said, "If you ever come here again, don't you dare talk to her when she's hypnotized. I'll give you a tablet and if you have something to say, you can write it down. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Steve agreed contritely. "May I ask a question?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What did you mean when you told Olivia to 'sit in the sun'?"  
  
Olivia grinned and explained for him. "It's part of the light and dark metaphor we use. When I work through a problem, I need to take a minute and enjoy the knowledge that I've resolved something. If the problems are darkness, then that moment when they're resolved is sitting in the sun."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Do you have any more questions?" Dr. Gregg asked.  
  
Steve shook his head, "Not right now. Can I come back later if others occur to me?"  
  
The doctor and Olivia exchanged a look, and the doctor said, "I suppose, but they'll have to be specific and limited to what you saw here today."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Ok, then," Olivia said, standing. "I guess we're done for the day."  
  
She shook Peter's hand, and so did Steve, then she looped her arm through his and walked out with him. 


	30. Missing

(Chapter 30. January 7-14. Various places.)  
  
Steve sprinted to answer the phone before the machine picked up. He wanted it to be Olivia, and couldn't quite keep the disappointment from his voice when Jesse came on the line.  
  
"Hey, Steve," said his way-too-cheerful friend. "How was the first day back at work?"  
  
"Oh, hi, Jess. It was all right."  
  
"Wow." Jesse said in a slightly sarcastic tone, "Calm down and tell me all about it."  
  
Steve smiled into the phone, "Sorry, Jess." He continued lightly. "It was a good day. I caught two easy cases. They were so open and shut I actually had them both wrapped up by the end of the day. I should always be so lucky."  
  
"Steve, that's great!" Jesse cheered, "So why do you sound so disappointed?"  
  
"Well, I was hoping to hear from Liv. She had that appointment with Dr. Gregg today, and I thought she might want to talk to me when it was over."  
  
It had really bothered Steve last week that Olivia had decided she didn't want to see him until after her next therapy session, but she had finally talked with Jesse a little about her past and visits to Dr. Gregg. Now at least Steve had someone with whom to discuss what he had seen and felt. Jesse could help him understand things about therapy he wasn't sure he could talk over with Liv or Dr. Gregg.  
  
"I see," Jesse said thoughtfully. "Steve, she's probably just had a busy day. I'll bet she calls soon."  
  
"Yeah," Steve agreed, "I hope so."  
  
"Look, if she doesn't call before you're ready for bed, why don't you call her? Ask if it's a bad time and if she says yes, apologize, and say goodnight. If she says no, tell her about your day, and ask if she wants to talk about hers."  
  
"That sounds like a plan, Jess, thanks."  
  
"Any time, bro."  
  
Steve smiled slightly.  
  
"Uh, Jess," he said tentatively.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Have you seen her since Thursday? How's she doing?"  
  
He heard the laugh in Jesse's voice.  
  
"We had lunch today, Steve. She seemed a little preoccupied, but otherwise all right. Why?"  
  
"Well, I was wondering…does she miss me?"  
  
This time Jesse laughed out loud.  
  
"She was hoping you had a good day and was looking forward to seeing you tonight. You're all she talked about. She said how proud she was of you, how relieved she was that you were ok with her going to therapy, how excited she was to be seeing you again today, and how hopeful she was that everything would work out between you two. In fact, you were so much the topic of conversation that I started to get bored."  
  
"Jess!" Steve groaned in frustration. "It isn't funny."  
  
Jesse laughed again.  
  
"Yes it is, Steve. You are all tied up in knots about her, and it really is too funny." When he stopped laughing, he continued. "Seriously, though. I know that at lunch she was planning to drop in at your place. If she doesn't show, something probably came up and you should give her a call, ok?"  
  
"Ok, Jess, and uh, thanks for the advice."  
  
"Sure thing, man. Thank you for the laugh."  
  
"Good bye, Jess."  
  
With a chuckle he said, "Bye, Steve."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
At ten thirty that evening, Steve left a third message on Olivia's machine.  
  
"Liv, it's Steve again. I've tried the hospital, your cell phone, and your pager. I'm getting worried. Jesse said you were planning to come by this evening. I'm on my way over to your place. If you get this message before you see me, call my cell number. If you don't want to talk, that's all right. I just want to know you're ok."  
  
He hung up with a sigh and bounded up the stairs to let his dad know what he was doing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve let himself in to Olivia's house at ten past eleven. There was no sense of it being occupied. He began to grow suspicious. He used his pen to flip the light switch, instinctively knowing he would be dusting for prints later. Something was definitely wrong.  
  
With his heart in his throat, he inspected the premises. The doors were locked, and there was no sign of forced entry, but as he went from room to room, he noticed things missing. Her magazines were gone from the coffee table, and her robe no longer hung in the bathroom. In the bedroom, her overnight bag was missing, along with her sleeping bag, one of the pillows from the bed, and her pajamas. The alarm clock was also turned off. In the kitchen, the refrigerator was nearly empty, and most notably, the keys to the Mercedes were gone from their hook by the kitchen door.  
  
She had apparently left without calling him.  
  
He went to the answering machine and hit the playback button. The only messages on it were his own. He hit the save button anyway. Maybe some clue he was not yet aware of would appear later. Where had she gone and why?  
  
All the plants in the mudroom were freshly watered, and the house was strangely cold. A quick check of the thermostat showed the heat was set at fifty degrees. He went to the breaker box and found that she had shut off the power to the water heater. She clearly planned to be gone a while.  
  
Great.  
  
As he turned from the breaker box something…or rather the lack of something…caught his eye. There was an empty space in Olivia's gun cabinet. A rifle usually sat there. Olivia once told him it was the same gun her grandfather had used to commit suicide. She knew it was odd to keep it, but she'd said it was one of the only things she had inherited from her father's family.  
  
Oh, dear God.  
  
He ran through the house frantically calling her name, hoping he was wrong, praying she'd be there. He got no answer.  
  
Taking out his cell phone, he called his dad.  
  
"Dad, it's Steve."  
  
"Hey son, did you find Olivia?"  
  
"No, Dad, she didn't call, did she?"  
  
"Haven't heard from her. What's wrong, Steve?"  
  
Steve was shaking with fear; so, he sat down to explain everything.  
  
He finished by asking, "Do you think she might be planning to kill herself? I know Jesse said she was excited to see me, but she was also preoccupied. I know suicidal people sometimes seem really happy once they've…made the decision."  
  
"Steve, calm down. I don't think you have enough evidence to make that assumption."  
  
"But, Dad, why else would she take the rifle, especially that particular one? She has two others in the cabinet."  
  
"What makes you think she took it, son? For all you know she could have sold it weeks ago," Mark reasoned.  
  
"No, Dad, it was her grandfather's. She'd never sell it."  
  
"Then maybe it's being cleaned or repaired," Mark suggested.  
  
"It was in perfect working order, and she knows how to maintain it herself. She wouldn't let anyone else touch it. Dad, I'm afraid she's in trouble."  
  
There was a moment's silence, then, "What do you want me to do, son?"  
  
"I'm going to call Jesse and Amanda and find out if she said anything to either of them to indicate what she was thinking. I need you to call Dr. Gregg and do the same."  
  
"Steve, anything said in therapy is kept in strictest confidence."  
  
"I know, Dad," Steve agreed, "but I also know that when a therapist believes a life is at stake, he is released from that confidentiality at least as far as necessary to help protect the life at risk. Call him. Please?"  
  
"Ok, son. Then I'll come meet you at Liv's, in case she comes home."  
  
"Actually, Dad, I'd prefer you stay there, in case she calls. If she's in trouble, I don't want her to get a machine."  
  
"Good point. Ok, I'll get back to you soon."  
  
"Thanks, Dad. Call me back on Olivia's phone. I doubt she'll be trying to call her own number. Bye."  
  
After he called Jesse and Amanda, he called the station and initiated a missing persons report. Contrary to popular belief, there was no specified waiting period before Olivia would be officially considered missing, but, given she was an adult, it would be a couple days before LAPD took the matter seriously. Most of the time people reported missing less than twenty-four hours after their disappearance just showed up on their own with some explanation or another. Most of the time, though, those people didn't have her history of depression and suicidal behavior.  
  
He shut off that line of thinking as fast as it started. He couldn't help her if he worried about things he couldn't control. He had to find her before she did it. That was the only way.  
  
He put out an alert on the Mercedes. If it showed up anywhere, he'd have a lead to follow.  
  
Then he settled back to wait. For his dad to call. For Olivia to walk in healthy and safe. For a detective from missing persons to show up. For someone to call about the car. And his guts burned with acid.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was after midnight when the phone rang. Steve jumped to answer it, but caught himself before he grabbed the receiver, and picked it up carefully between his thumb and forefinger, using a tissue to avoid leaving prints.  
  
"Hello? Liv?"  
  
"No, Steve, it's Dad."  
  
"Oh. What did Dr. Gregg say?"  
  
"Well, he was not happy about being disturbed to say the least. It amazes me that a man who helps people deal with their emotions could have so much anger."  
  
"Dad," Steve interrupted impatiently, "what did he say?"  
  
"He wouldn't say much, Steve. Just that he didn't think she was depressed or suicidal. He was offended that I would ask and he was shocked that I might think he'd let her leave if she were so unstable. She did, however, cancel her next appointment. If you want anything more, you'll have to get a warrant. Those are his words, not mine."  
  
"Just great, Dad!" Steve snapped. "It's been over an hour and that's all you could get me?"  
  
Mark was apologetic.  
  
"I did my best, Steve. We argued for quite some time. I even threatened his job. All he would say is that he doesn't believe she's in any danger. I'm sorry I couldn't do better."  
  
Steve sighed. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm just so worried."  
  
"Son, she has a habit of running when life gets too intense. Do you think-- "  
  
"No, I don't," Steve interrupted. "She'd have said something."  
  
"Then could it be something else, Steve?"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Well, she is quite wealthy. Maybe there'll be a ransom demand."  
  
"Kidnappers generally don't give you time to pack, Dad."  
  
"But if it's someone from her past who knows her habits…"  
  
Steve finished the thought, "They might want us to think she was running to give themselves more time to get away."  
  
"That's a possibility."  
  
"Oh, God, Dad. What if it's Ted? The guy who tried to kill her? What if he's out?"  
  
"Steve, she's survived so much. She'll hang on until we can find her. Given the possibilities, where do we start?"  
  
Steve thought for just a moment.  
  
"Change the pickup message on the machine. Make it tell Olivia to call my cell collect. Have Jesse and Amanda do the same and tell them to get over here. Then go to the hospital and get someone to get you her personnel file. I don't care if you have to wake someone at home to come in and do it. Once you have the file, come on over to her house. I'm going to call the precinct and get someone over here now. Then I'm going to call Pennsylvania to see if Ted is out after which I plan to break into her filing cabinet to see if there are any financial records or other papers that might help us locate her."  
  
"Right," Mark agreed. "By then we should be able to start making a list of possible suspects."  
  
"Dad, I have a bad feeling about this."  
  
"I know, son, but try not to worry. Olivia's tougher than you think. She'll probably come through this…whatever it is…better than the rest of us."  
  
"I hope you're right. Thanks, Dad."  
  
"Yep. See you soon."  
  
"Right. Bye."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve sighed as he let himself into Olivia's house. The smell of lavender was growing fainter every day. She'd been missing a week, and every lead had dried up. He'd been staying at her house in case she came home, and he'd noticed his Dad, Jesse, and Amanda had been taking turns staying with him. He appreciated their thoughtfulness, but didn't really feel it was necessary. He just didn't have the heart to ask them to stop.  
  
At first, he and his dad and friends had been considered suspects in the possible kidnapping. Steve knew it was standard procedure, but it still stung. Fortunately, it didn't take much to convince Detective Simmons, the primary investigator on the case, that they weren't involved. The captain had given Steve time off knowing that he would unofficially investigate Olivia's disappearance. He said as much, and made Steve give his word that he would inform Simmons of anything he might discover.  
  
Thankfully, Ted was still in prison, but the initial list of suspects was enormous. In the file cabinet, Steve had found a ledger filled with names of several hundred people who owed Olivia money. For most people it was a few thousand or tens of thousands of dollars, but some owed as much as several hundred thousand. In all, nearly five million dollars had been repaid over the years, but nearly eight and a half million was still owing.  
  
Steve managed to track down her accountant, a Mr. Meyer Goldstein, in Pennsylvania, and found there was another ledger of loans that had been paid in full. All of the loans were interest free. Olivia had helped families all over the country salvage bankrupt farms and businesses. She had helped educate hundreds of children, and she had financed public works from sewage treatment plants to community centers in several small towns. Steve was stunned to find that between the liens she held against various properties and the money she had invested in diverse corporations, small businesses, and projects, Olivia was worth somewhere in the neighborhood of ninety million dollars.  
  
He smiled. She certainly wasn't interested in him for his money. He wondered how she had come by such wealth.  
  
Anyone owing Olivia money and anyone who knew she was wealthy had been a suspect. Mr. Goldstein had insisted that none of the people in the ledger would have harmed Olivia. He swore they all loved her and were grateful for her help. Nevertheless, he had been a huge help in locating them. He had all the addresses in the billing program on his computer and had e- mailed the file to Steve. For three days, police in twelve states and three European countries had been checking alibis.  
  
Through her personnel file, and several interviews with Davis, Mark had tracked down many of Olivia's former acquaintances from previous jobs. While there were some who did not appreciate her direct approach to problems and her total intolerance for fools and hypocrites, none of them seemed likely to abduct her. The few Mark had suspected had ironclad alibis.  
  
The list of angry patients was blessedly short, a testament to Olivia's caring nature and remarkable talent. Nothing panned out there either.  
  
No name had risen to the top of the list.  
  
Friday morning they met for breakfast at BBQ Bob's and started fresh. Who hadn't they talked to? As one, Steve, Mark, Jesse, Amanda, Detective Simmons, and Davis all said the same name.  
  
"Carolyn Green."  
  
"I thought you were going to talk to her Tuesday," Steve said to Simmons.  
  
"I was, but she wasn't home when I called so I left a message. Then we had so many other leads to investigate I never got the chance to follow up."  
  
"All it takes is a damned phone call, Simmons," Steve scolded.  
  
"Look, Sloan," Simmons countered, "Tuesday morning we had a lot of other more likely suspects. Should I have let them go to track down a secretary?"  
  
"No, but you should have made the f--"  
  
"Steve," Mark interrupted before he could curse the other detective again, "any of us could have reminded him or made the call ourselves. At the time there seemed to be more important matters to attend to."  
  
Steve bit the inside of his cheek in thought for several moments before he released his anger.  
  
"You're right, Dad. Simmons, I'm sorry. Now we have to find Ms. Green."  
  
"It's all right, Sloan. I know this has been hard on you." He extended his hand to Steve, and Steve shook it.  
  
"Let's go find the secretary," Simmons said.  
  
"Right. I have her address," Steve agreed.  
  
Carolyn wasn't at her apartment when they got there, so Steve and Simmons split up and started questioning the neighbors. Half an hour later, they met back at the car. Steve had turned up nothing, but Simmons was grinning like the Cheshire cat.  
  
"What have you got, Simmons?"  
  
Simmons' grin widened.  
  
"It seems our Ms. Carolyn Green has a convenient arrangement with an elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gladys Warren, in which Carolyn gets home-cooked meals several days a week in return for helping Mrs. Warren with housework."  
  
"And?" Steve prodded.  
  
"And Carolyn came for dinner on Monday as usual, but told Mrs. Warren she'd be out of town for the next week or so. Dr. Regis had given her a one-week bonus and told her to take a vacation. She's gone to Cancun."  
  
"Did Carolyn happen to mention where Olivia was going?"  
  
"Nothing specific as far as Mrs. Warren can recall, but she did say Carolyn mentioned that Dr. Regis was excited about 'playing in the snow.' She's probably going to the mountains."  
  
"Good work, Simmons! Now we can limit our search to places in the mountains that were accessible to the Mercedes on Monday. Between weather and traffic reports we have a chance of finding Liv again."  
  
Just then, Simmons' cell phone rang.  
  
"Detective Simmons…Uh-huh…Uh-huh…Oh, hell…"  
  
Steve felt his guts twist.  
  
Simmons continued his conversation, "Was she alone…Ok…For how long…Do we have the plates…and there's an alert out on the new vehicle…Good….Give me the phone number and address just in case."  
  
As Simmons wrote, Steve prayed silently, "Please don't let it be a body."  
  
"Yeah," Simmons said, "He's right here...She did…Crap…I'll tell him…Thanks…Bye."  
  
"What is it?" Steve asked, steeling himself for the worst.  
  
"They've found Dr. Regis' car at a rental place up in Redding. A woman matching her description left it early Tuesday morning. She rented an SUV on her visa card, and paid a week in advance. The clerk noticed she had a rifle and very few provisions. I suppose she could have been planning to stop before she got where she was going. Until that SUV turns up, we're stuck. I'm sorry, Steve."  
  
Steve nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Simmons had said, "I'm sorry." That's what homicide cops said to the next of kin when they were delivering a death notice.  
  
He got into the car and slammed the door. Simmons climbed in the driver's side and said, "Now what?"  
  
"Take me to Olivia's place. I'll wait for her there."  
  
Carolyn Green had come back Sunday night. Simmons had checked the airports and found she had purchased a ticket to Cancun just like Mrs. Warren had said. He asked a regular patrol to watch for her, and when she arrived, they called him. She showed him the note Olivia had left her the past Monday. It was in Olivia's handwriting and explained that she was taking a week off. Olivia had suggested that Carolyn do the same and had provided her the funds to do so.  
  
Now it was Monday evening. Steve was alone in Olivia's house. Had she run away or killed herself? Would he ever know?  
  
He got himself a beer and went into the living room to sit on the couch. He allowed himself to sink into despair.  
  
What could be so terrible about him that every woman he'd ever loved turned out to be crazy, criminal, married, or ended up dead? Why didn't he deserve someone to love him? And where the hell had Liv gone? She could have at least said goodbye. He didn't know what would be worse, finding out she was dead or that she had left him or never hearing anything more about her. He was so lost in thought he didn't hear Jesse come in.  
  
"Jeeze, Steve, you look like hell." Jesse gently slipped the beer from his hand. "How many?"  
  
Steve didn't protest, he just said, "That's the first."  
  
Jesse put the bottle on the coffee table, and Steve snapped, "Use a coaster, dammit!"  
  
Jesse found one on an end table and placed it under the beer. Then he sat beside his friend and put an arm around his shoulders. Steve felt bad for snapping at Jesse, but he didn't have the energy to apologize.  
  
"Have you eaten today?"  
  
Steve shrugged.  
  
"I didn't think so. Your dad and Amanda are on the way with some groceries. We're all going to have dinner here, and we're going to make sure you eat. Then your dad's going to take you home and put you to bed."  
  
"No, Jess."  
  
"Yes, Steve." Jesse gave him a comforting squeeze around the shoulders. "She'll come home or she won't. Making yourself sick over it won't change a thing."  
  
Steve shrugged again. There was a knock, and Jesse got the door. Steve heard himself being discussed as if he wasn't even there. He didn't care.  
  
"How is he, Jess?"  
  
"Depressed, Amanda. Really depressed."  
  
His dad must have seen the beer on the table because he asked, "He's been drinking?"  
  
"He says it's his first one, and I believe him. He doesn't seem to be drunk, just really down. I don't know how he's going to get through this, Mark."  
  
"Well, he's going to start with a good meal and a decent night's sleep in his own bed. Then we'll see."  
  
Amanda sat with Steve and made small talk while Mark and Jesse cooked. He tried to respond to her amusing anecdotes, but he had no sense of humor. The smells from the kitchen were heavenly, but Steve had no appetite. When Mark called everyone to the table, Amanda got up and motioned him to follow her, but Steve just waved her off. Moments later his dad came into the living room.  
  
"You have to eat, son."  
  
He shrugged yet again. "Not hungry, Dad."  
  
"I know. You're depressed." With a gentle smile, Mark added, "That's the only time you quit eating."  
  
"Please, Dad, just leave me the hell alone."  
  
Mark sat on the coffee table to look him in the eye. He'd never seen Steve so torn up inside. To a stranger he might seem to be holding together remarkably well, but Mark knew better. Steve was holding in so much fear and anger, the only hint that this wasn't just another case was his frequent use of profanity. Mark had first noticed it the day Steve cursed Detective Simmons out when they realized no one had talked to Carolyn Green.  
  
"Son, listen to me." Mark took a deep breath, knowing he was wading into dangerous waters, but hoping he could make Steve let some of his emotions go. "If Olivia has done herself…some injury, worrying yourself sick won't help her. If she has just run off, she isn't worth all this worry."  
  
Enraged, Steve heaved himself off the couch.  
  
"She's worth all of it and a thousand times more!" He yelled at his dad. "She saved my life, dammit, and I wanted to spend the rest of it with her. I'm in love with her like no woman I've ever known." His rage was quickly turning back to despair. He started to weep.  
  
"Oh, God, Dad, where'd she go?" Steve's voice was choked with fear. "Why did she leave? What did I do wrong? Could I have prevented it?"  
  
Mark stood and wrapped his arms around his son.  
  
"Shh, Steve, it's ok. I don't know where she could be or why she left, but I know it was *not* your fault. You've shown her nothing but love, patience, and understanding. Olivia has lots of problems, Steve. If I had thought they were still this serious, I would have warned you off, but I really thought that overcoming them had given her the strength she needed to be good for you. I'm sorry I didn't see this coming. I would have done something if I had."  
  
It was Steve's turn to reassure his father, and he did not miss the opportunity.  
  
"It's all right. You couldn't have known, Dad. I didn't see it. Dr. Gregg didn't either. I just wish we had a body or at least a goodbye."  
  
"I was awfully fond of her, son. You know that?"  
  
"I know, Dad. Me, too."  
  
Jesse and Amanda had come into the room to lend their friends support. They embraced father and son in a circle of friendship and joined them in their grieving. They stood together, in Olivia's living room, enveloped in the fading scent of lavender, for several minutes.  
  
Amanda heard a noise in the foyer. She looked in that direction expecting to see detective Simmons come in with his daily report. It had been the same for days now. Nothing new. What she saw was quite astounding.  
  
"OOOH, GIRRL!" she squealed and jumped away from her friends.  
  
"AAAGH!" the intruder screamed back as she dropped a backpack and an overnight bag.  
  
Mark, Jesse, and Steve jumped apart.  
  
"LIV!" Steve yelled.  
  
"WHAT?!?!"  
  
A dozen questions flew at her at once. All of them were variations on one of two themes. Finally, Steve condensed them to two simple inquiries.  
  
"Are you ok? And where the *hell* have you been?"  
  
"Language, Steve," she chided him gently.  
  
"Screw my effing language, Liv! I thought you were dead."  
  
She drew herself up to her full height. Even at a mere five feet three inches, she seemed imposing as she said in a lethal tone. "Stop yelling, and *don't* *cuss* *at me*."  
  
In two long strides, Steve stood before her. For a moment, the tension in the room was palpable. Amanda could almost believe the two might come to blows. She knew Steve was angry with her for disappearing, and she realized that Olivia had no idea how worried they all had been. Amanda thought to diffuse the situation, but didn't know what to say.  
  
Then Steve threw his arms around Olivia and started shouting with joy.  
  
"Thank God you're ok, oh, thank God."  
  
Olivia looked over Steve's shoulder to Mark, Jesse, and Amanda. Confusion was plain on her face, but she neither protested nor struggled as Steve swept her off her feet and spun her around the room.  
  
When he finally put her down, they both swayed with dizziness. As Mark and Jesse steadied them, Olivia said, "This is some kind of welcome home party. What's for dinner? It smells great! And, Steve, what do you mean you thought I was dead?"  
  
Before Steve could begin, Mark suggested, "Let's talk about it over dinner."  
  
As Jesse and Amanda served the meal, Mark called Detective Simmons to let him know Olivia was home safe. At Mark's request, he agreed to wait until the next day to get her statement.  
  
Over a filling meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans followed by a triple chocolate peanut butter pie for dessert, they took turns telling Olivia about their search for and fears about her. Steve apologized several times for invading her privacy, but insisted it was necessary.  
  
"It's all right, Steve. But didn't you get my note?"  
  
"What note?"  
  
She patted his hand. "Baby, I couldn't get you on the cell phone, and you weren't at the precinct when I called. I didn't want to just leave a phone message, so I swung by your place on my way out of town and taped a note to your door."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes, "It must have blown off. I never saw it."  
  
After a pause, he said, "Don't you ever dare leave again without telling me in person."  
  
"Steve, sweetie, I'm a grown woman…"  
  
"No, dammit. You don't understand," he interrupted. Then he choked up and hung on the edge of tears for a moment.  
  
After a few deep breaths he continued, "I thought you were never coming back, and I didn't want to go on without you."  
  
"Why did you think I was never coming back, love?"  
  
A deep breath. "You took your granddad's rifle."  
  
Suddenly she understood. She leaped to her feet and came around the table. Throwing her arms around him, she sat across his lap. He began to weep again, and she joined him. They were lost together, but surrounded by friends.  
  
"Oh, my darling, no." She spoke soothingly, interrupting herself often to kiss him. "Oh, no. You have given me so much to live for. You see, I was already dead, but then I met you. I could never, now. You are my life."  
  
She did not realize Steve was growing angry again.  
  
"Then why did you take the rifle, Liv? What did you plan to do with it?"  
  
She drew back, but did not leave his lap.  
  
"I rented a rustic cabin in the mountains. You know the kind of place I'm talking about…woodstove, outhouse, no 'fridge. I figured I'd hunt for my dinner." She smiled. "Did pretty well, too. I had meat every night. Mostly rabbit but I did some fishing, and I bagged a couple of quail."  
  
Steve was unmoved. "Where's this cabin? We looked all over California for you."  
  
"It's in the mountains." She didn't look at him.  
  
"What mountains, Liv?"  
  
"The Northern Cascades." She dropped her gaze to the floor.  
  
Jesse laughed and Amanda hit him.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"The Northern Cascades?" Steve's voice went up an octave with the question. "Jesus, Liv! That's almost in Canada! Why did you have to go so far away?"  
  
"I needed to think."  
  
Steve just glared at her for a moment. Then he asked, "What in the hell did you have to think about that required you to run all the way to effing Canada?"  
  
Her lower lip trembled but she didn't answer.  
  
"I want an answer."  
  
"Steve," Mark said.  
  
"No, Dad, I *deserve* an answer."  
  
Olivia gulped and tried to explain. "It's more than I can say, Steve, but while I was gone, I started missing you, and I knew it was time to come home. And, well, this is home."  
  
Steve continued to glare at her.  
  
"Steve, don't you understand? For the first time in twelve years, home is the place where I live, not the place I ran away from."  
  
He sighed.  
  
"That's because you're here, Steve." Looking around to include Mark, Jesse, and Amanda, she said, "All of you, really."  
  
His demeanor softening, he nudged her off his lap and stood up. "I'm not mad any more, but we need to have a long talk right now about what we expect from each other because I never want to worry this much again."  
  
"Ok."  
  
He held out his arms offering a hug and said, "I am so glad you're home."  
  
She accepted the hug, and he picked her up. She wrapped herself around him like a koala in a eucalyptus tree. As they headed for the bedroom, Mark called after them, "I guess we'll clean up in here, then, uh, we'll see ourselves out."  
  
Steve called back, "Don't go anywhere, Dad, we just need a few minutes."  
  
Olivia giggled as he carried her back the hall, through the living room, and into the bedroom. She unwound herself when he sat her on the bed.  
  
"Steve, your dad, Jesse, and Amanda are here."  
  
"So?" he said, "It's your house."  
  
She giggled again and purred, "I suppose it is."  
  
Though it took all his self-control, he stopped her busy hands from undoing his jeans. She looked at him askance, and he explained, "Tempting though it may be, I did not bring you back here to make love."  
  
"Oh." Disappointment was plain in her voice.  
  
"We need to talk."  
  
She sighed and nodded, moved some pillows to make room for herself against the headboard, and sat cross-legged, waiting.  
  
Steve sat beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and put his arm around her shoulders. He took a deep breath, not sure where to begin. Finally, he said, "I'm glad you've started to think of this place as home. We all want you to feel like part of the family."  
  
She smiled.  
  
He thought a minute, and then said. "But that kind of relationship comes with certain responsibilities that you haven't been living up to lately."  
  
She cocked her head, drew her eyebrows together, stuck her lip out in a pout, and waited for him to continue. Steve felt like he was talking to a cat. Olivia could be so expressive in her silence, and so terribly frustrating. He smiled as he remembered the first time they'd made love and how her freckles had made him think of a leopard.  
  
"I need to know that you are safe, and that you are happy, and that you are with me. What you said about this place being home now has reassured me that you won't leave, and given my history with women, that in itself means more than you could imagine."  
  
The Sphinx finally spoke. "Jesse, Amanda, and Mark have told me. They wanted make sure I understood that I had better not play around with your feelings. They're very protective of you."  
  
Steve grinned. "Sometimes too protective." He paused a beat, then, "I know, now, that even if you have to go away for a while, you'll be back. That makes me feel a lot safer in this relationship."  
  
"Then what's the problem, Steve?"  
  
"I need to know why you had to leave. What was on your mind that was so huge you had to go all the way to Canada to think about it? Could I have done anything to help?"  
  
"I explained it all in my letter."  
  
"Which I never saw."  
  
"True. It's hard to put into words."  
  
"Try, Liv. I need to know."  
  
She hung her head and watched her hands as they fidgeted with each other.  
  
"I…got scared."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Of you."  
  
"Me? Why?"  
  
"Because…I love you. I…need you."  
  
He rubbed her shoulders and drew her closer to him. "Sweetie, I still don't get it. Can you explain a little more?"  
  
She sighed, "I'll try. Let me think."  
  
They were quiet for a while, then she began again.  
  
"Do you know why I asked you to come to Dr. Gregg's office with me?"  
  
"You said it was because you wanted me to understand what it takes for you…to be the cheerful, pleasant person you are most of the time."  
  
She nodded, "That was only part of it. I needed to know that you'd be there for me while I face my demons. I *needed* you there, Steve, and that's what frightened me. I'm so vulnerable in therapy, and that day I gave you something of myself that I can't ever take back. I was afraid of what you might do with it. I was terrified of showing you that part of me, but I still needed you there. Because I love you."  
  
Steve was hurt that she didn't trust him, but he put it aside, hoping he could get more out of her.  
  
"Olivia, I love you, too, and would never hurt you. You can trust me."  
  
She sniffed, teary, but not quite crying.  
  
"I do trust you, to be kind and gentle and decent and loyal and protective and honorable. But I don't trust love."  
  
Now Steve was really confused. "What do you mean, you 'don't trust love'?"  
  
"Think about my life, Steve. My granddad loved me, and he almost beat me to death. Mama loved me, and she let him do it. Daddy and Mama and the boys and Beth all loved me, and all left me. Ted and Keith loved me, and you know what a mess that turned out to be."  
  
She shifted position, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his chest. She just listened to his heartbeat for a long time. Steve could feel her gently tapping the rhythm against his ribs.  
  
Finally, she spoke again.  
  
"This is what I trust. This moment. Your heartbeat, the rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of your body against mine, the scent of sun and sea that clings to you. I trust you, here with me, now. But love?"  
  
Her voice wavered for a moment, then she continued. "I can't depend on love, Steve. Life has taught me two things about love. It hurts you and then it leaves you. Those are awfully hard lessons to unlearn."  
  
For several moments, Steve just rubbed her back wondering what to do next. Then his eyes fell on the Bible she kept on the nightstand and an idea struck him. He wasn't a terribly religious man, but he had learned his catechism as a boy, and he still attended mass on occasion. Some things he'd learned had touched him deeply, and he still carried those lessons with him. Somewhere years ago, he'd read a passage that might help now. He asked, "Would you let me try to teach you about a different kind of love?"  
  
He felt her nod against his chest.  
  
Taking the Bible, he turned to the table of contents. He knew the book, chapter, and verse he was looking for, but wasn't sure where it was. It took a moment, but he found the passage. Hoping he wouldn't seem like a hypocrite to her, he began reading:  
  
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  
  
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  
  
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  
  
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  
  
Love never fails.  
  
She rolled over and looked up at him. He was relieved to see her smile. "I Corinthians 13:4-8. From the New International Version."  
  
He double-checked her citation. "Yeah."  
  
"I've never known that kind of love, never expected to."  
  
"Neither have I, until now, Liv. I learned this passage as a boy, and I still think it's beautiful. I saw it in a greeting card once and realized it would be an incredible way to express your feelings for someone, but I didn't buy it for the girl I was dating at the time. I didn't feel that way about her. I feel that way about you, and whether you know it or not, you've shown me the same kind of love. You've shown me what those words mean. Give me the chance to do the same for you."  
  
She nodded. "I'll try, but I don't know if you'll want to take on that kind of responsibility after we go to Pennsylvania. There's so much…junk…in my life. I'm not sure anyone would want to deal with it."  
  
"I want to. I want to be there and face it all with you."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"There's only one way to find out."  
  
"I know. I have two airline tickets for January 31. We'll be there for Groundhog Day."  
  
Steve grinned. "I'll tell the captain tomorrow."  
  
  
  
  
  
Much later Mark went back to the bedroom to check on them. Steve had left the door partially open, and without thinking, he peeked in. Steve and Olivia lay fully clothed on top of the covers. Her arms were wrapped around his middle, her head resting on his chest. He had one arm around her shoulders and the other resting at his side. She was sleeping soundly, and he was watching her as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered.  
  
The little tableau made Mark's heart melt. He could remember holding his beloved Katherine like that. He knew in that moment that Steve's destiny was inextricably intertwined with Olivia's. They would each always own a part of the other. Suddenly he felt embarrassed to intrude on such an intimate moment. He went back the hall a few steps and called to his son.  
  
"Steve!"  
  
He pushed the door open and Steve looked up and hushed him.  
  
"Shh, Dad. She's sleeping."  
  
"Oh, sorry," Mark whispered. "Jesse, Amanda, and I are ready to go…unless you want us to wait a little longer."  
  
"No, Dad. That's ok. Thank you…and thank them…for being with me through all of this."  
  
"You're welcome, son."  
  
"Let's all of us have lunch tomorrow. Say noon at the hospital?"  
  
Mark nodded. "I'll mention it to Jesse and Amanda. I'm sure they'll be there. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Ok, Dad. Bye. And have a good night."  
  
"You, too, son." 


	31. Interlude

(Chapter 31. January 15-31. Various locations.)  
  
Steve decided to let himself in through the beach entrance of his apartment. It was after midnight and he didn't want to wake his dad. Olivia had woken up around ten, and they had talked for a while, but when she realized that he had been practically living at her place waiting for word of her whereabouts she insisted that he go home.  
  
"He is your father, Steve. He's family, and he should come first."  
  
"But Liv, he won't mind. He knows how I feel about you."  
  
"That doesn't matter, Steve. You spent a week worrying and wondering about me. I'm sure he was worried about you the whole time. Go home. Let him see that you're ok. We'll get together sometime tomorrow. I promise."  
  
She had, of course, won, but she promised to join the gang for lunch at the hospital.  
  
As he walked around to his private entrance, a stiff breeze picked up and blew a piece of paper across his path. He muttered something about people littering the beach, and picked it up to throw it away when he went in. He let himself in and went straight to his room to change and crawl in bed. He tossed the paper in the wastebasket beside his desk, and as it fell, he noticed his name on it.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
He unfolded it. It was a long letter, signed, "Olivia."  
  
My darling Steve,  
  
  
  
I am facing a problem that you cannot help me resolve. In fact, I'm not sure anyone can help me.  
  
  
  
I love you, and that means I need you. And so, I must learn to trust you.  
  
  
  
Needing someone is a new and frightening thing, darling. I suddenly have to consider your needs and desires. I have to be concerned with your feelings and goals. I have to compromise. My life is no longer my own.  
  
  
  
For a long time, I took great comfort in being alone against the world. I never had to risk someone else letting me down. I knew God had a plan for me, and I could fight it or follow it, but ultimately I got to decide how to get where he wanted me to go. Now it seems he has a plan for us, so I must learn to share my path with you.  
  
  
  
There was a time, not long ago, when I would have resented sharing my bathroom. Now I find I want to share my life, but I don't know how. Forgive me if it seems I don't trust you, Steve, but trust is learned as much as it is earned. You have done your part, but I am still working on mine. Please be patient.  
  
  
  
In all my wanderings, I was sure of one thing. I was an island, alone, self- sufficient, and completely independent. Now that my heart has bound me to you, I feel as though I have been cut adrift. It is quite a paradox, really, and one that I must resolve for myself.  
  
  
  
I need some time to think, and you, my love, are too much of a distraction. I want to surrender everything to you, Steve, but I am afraid. Love has always hurt me, and everyone I have ever counted on has let me down. It has taken me many years to overcome my past and develop the self-confidence and self-esteem I have now. I like who I am, but much of my character has grown out of fending for myself and relying on no one. I am afraid to depend on you because it might cost me my hard-won identity, and I'm not sure either of us would like the person I would become.  
  
  
  
I'm not running away this time. I promise. I'll be back as soon as I figure out how to give you my heart without losing myself.  
  
Soon to be yours…  
  
Truly,  
  
Olivia  
  
  
  
  
  
At the end, there was a P.S. with an address in Rockport, Washington saying, "Do not disturb except in case of emergency."  
  
Steve frowned. Judging by the conversation they'd had earlier in the evening, Olivia really hadn't resolved much of anything. He had to figure out a way to help her. He shook his head. Whatever he did, it would have to wait until tomorrow. He was far too tired to think anymore tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"It's ok, sweetheart, you can trust me."  
  
"I…I don't know, Steve. Can't we just go back?"  
  
"Liv, we've been hiking most of the day. There's a ranger's station just down the trail. We can make it before the storm hits, but if we try to go back…. It's just too dangerous."  
  
They were on a rope and board suspension bridge across a deep chasm, and when they got to the middle, they found some boards had broken off and fallen out. Steve had easily hopped across the hole, but Liv was afraid she wouldn't make it.  
  
"Just jump, sweetie. It's not that far, really. You can make it, and I'm right here to help. Trust me."  
  
"O-Ok. Here, take this first."  
  
She tossed him her pack, and he staggered under the force of it hitting him in the chest.  
  
"Jesus, Liv, what's in here, bricks?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
He put the pack down on the bridge behind him and turned to her.  
  
"Ok, love. Take a couple steps back, get a good start, and when you get to the edge, jump. I'll be right here to catch you."  
  
She nodded, stepped back, and made the short run up to the hole. He watched as she leaped into the air. Certain that she was going to land safely well beyond the hole; he turned aside to get out of her way. When she landed just at the edge, he was shocked. Her trajectory should have landed her a couple feet ahead of him. She lost her balance and her arms started to windmill. He reached out to steady her, but it felt as though he was moving through molasses. Just as his fingers touched her jacket, her feet slipped, and she plunged through the hole.  
  
"Steeeeeeeve!!!!!"  
  
"Liv!!!!!"  
  
He sat bolt upright in bed, panting, soaked in sweat, heart pounding, sheets twisted around his legs and balled up in his fists. He took a couple deep breaths, and said aloud to the darkness, "It was just a dream."  
  
A moment later, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Great, he'd woken his father.  
  
Mark came in the room without knocking.  
  
"Steve, you ok? What's the matter?"  
  
Steve reached over and turned on the lamp beside his bed. Squinting in the sudden brightness, he said, "I'm ok, Dad. It was just a bad dream."  
  
"Son, I heard you screaming for Olivia. You remember that she came home, right?"  
  
"Yeah, Dad, I do."  
  
Mark sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Want to talk about it?"  
  
Steve closed his eyes and thought a moment. Shaking his head, he said, "Nothing to talk about. I can't remember."  
  
"Ok, then." Mark twisted up his face in a look of confusion. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you'd spend the night with her."  
  
Steve gave his dad a wry smile. "She made me come home. She said I should let you see that I was all right. She'd probably have let me stay had she known this would to happen. Uh…sorry I woke you."  
  
Mark turned Steve's alarm clock around so he could see the face. It was 5:48.  
  
"I'd be getting up in twelve minutes, anyway. Don't worry about it." Peering at his son's face, he asked, "You are ok, right?"  
  
"Yeah, dad, I'm fine," Steve insisted in a tone that suggested he found his father's continued inquiry a bit odd.  
  
"And the nightmare, son? How do you explain that?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "I've had a few strange dreams since I met Olivia. I only remember bits and pieces, but they all seem to be different. It's not a recurring nightmare, and it doesn't happen often. It might be just a response to her emotional state."  
  
Mark reached out and squeezed his son's shoulder. Looking Steve in the eye, he said, "Ok, but if it becomes a problem, I want to know, understand?"  
  
Steve nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. Now what do you want for breakfast?"  
  
With a mischievous grin, Steve said, "Surprise me."  
  
Mark chuckled. "One surprise special, coming up."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve groaned. He was amazed at how much paperwork his job generated. He'd only worked three cases in the past five months, and already he was behind. It was a relief and delight when he looked up to see Olivia walk in the office just as he opened another folder. He sighed, smiled, and stood up to greet her.  
  
She was looking lovely as always in a pale yellow long-sleeved knit dress, close fitting down to the waist, then flaring slightly from the hips down. She wore her watch and the necklace he had given her, and her curly red hair was pulled back to reveal pearl earrings. He was surprised to see her greet and chat familiarly with everyone she passed on her way to his desk. Finally, she gave Cheryl a nod and a smile, then turned and wrapped her arms around him.  
  
As he pulled her close and breathed in her scent, he became aware of several of his fellow detectives watching him. For a split second he was self-conscious, then he thought, 'Screw it. This is delicious, and after everything we've been through, we both have a right to enjoy it, no matter who's watching.'  
  
She pulled back slightly from his embrace, kissed him, and, still holding his hand, seated herself in the chair beside his desk. He took a seat as well, and sat there admiring her.  
  
"I've just come from giving detective Simmons my statement," she said. "I was actually a little nervous about it. I thought he might…have words for me…about wasting his time the way I did, but he was really very nice."  
  
"Yeah," Steve agreed, "Simmons is a good guy. I sure didn't make things easy for him."  
  
Olivia looked down, and whispered, "Nor I, for you."  
  
"Hey, now," he took her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. "That's all water under the bridge."  
  
For some reason, he got a mental picture of a broken suspension bridge across a deep gorge with himself looking in horror through the hole to the river below. He shook off the sudden chill he felt, and said, "Besides, I found your note. The wind blew it right to me last night as I was going in the house."  
  
She smiled. "Really? Then you understand why I had to go away?"  
  
"Better than I did last night, but I think we need to talk about it some more."  
  
"Ok." She looked at her watch. "Well, I have an appointment with Dr. Gregg in half an hour. I just stopped to say hello. See you at lunch, right?"  
  
"I'll be there at noon."  
  
She leaned forward and kissed him. "Bye, babe."  
  
He admired her from the back as she walked away, and gave several of his colleagues a dirty look when he caught them watching her with a bit too much interest.  
  
He heard Cheryl laugh and say, "Don't be jealous. She's a beautiful woman. They can't help it any more than you can."  
  
"Who's jealous? I was just surprised that everyone had so much to say to her when she came in."  
  
"When you were in the hospital, she came by two or three days a week to let us know how you were doing, and she made friends with a quite few people. No one ever said anything out of the way to her, and while she was charming and friendly to everyone, she never looked at anybody the way she does at you."  
  
"Sometimes I still wonder why."  
  
Cheryl grinned, "So do I."  
  
Steve made a face, and she continued, "Seriously, Steve, she loves you like…that's what God made her to do. Everyone here can see it, and that's why none of the guys will ever do more than admire her from a distance. Her heart belongs to you alone."  
  
Steve became pensive for a moment then said, "You're a good partner, Cheryl. Thanks."  
  
She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and said, "Don't mention it."  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia was the last to arrive at lunch. Steve watched her carefully as she walked through the cafeteria. Until today at the precinct, he'd never noticed just how much attention she attracted. She smiled and nodded at everyone, joked with the cashier, and when she stopped to chat with the occupants of another table, he saw her give one of the doctors a pat on the back. Any other woman would have been flirting, but Liv was just being friendly. She genuinely cared about people.  
  
As she got to their table, she gave Jesse a friendly swat on the shoulder. "Good call on that spiral fracture today, Jess. That was no accident; somebody took that child's arm and twisted it until it snapped."  
  
"That's what I figured," Jesse agreed. "Did you get anywhere with the mother or with social services?"  
  
Liv nodded. "As it turns out little Ernie's step-dad has three children, all by other women, all of whom he's been abusing. The social worker and I dug into the records and found them. We've convinced them that there's strength in numbers. Ernie's mom has applied for a restraining order, and all four women have decided to press charges. I expect they'll be arresting the step-dad by the end of the day."  
  
She put her tray down and placed a hand on Mark's back. "I want to schedule Mrs. Kowalski for that knee replacement soon. She insists that you be there to supervise."  
  
"Oh, really?" Mark asked with a laugh. "I told her you're the expert."  
  
"Oh, I know," Olivia said as she took a seat. "She told me so herself." Mimicking an older woman, she said, "'Now, honey, don't get your feelings hurt. I know that doctor's magazine --What is it? Pajamas? Such a name-- says you're the very best. Dr. Sloan had me read the article and everything, though I really didn't understand much of it.'" She waved her hand to indicate just what she thought of the article in question. "'But you're just so young. I'm afraid you might panic or something, then where would I be? Oy. That's why I want Dr. Sloan there. He's mature, experienced, and steady. You don't mind, do you?'"  
  
Olivia snapped back to herself for a moment, "Oh, no, ma'am, but officially, as your orthopedic surgeon, I'll be in charge, and he'll be assisting."  
  
The older lady took over again. "Call it what you want, sweetie. As long as he's there, I'll know what's really going on."  
  
Mark chuckled and said, "Reverse ageism."  
  
Liv slipped her left hand into Steve's right. It had become a convenient and comfortable habit for them since he was left-handed and she was right- handed. She gave him a kiss while they all had a laugh at her expense. Looking at Mark she said, "I'll have Carolyn set up a time with you for early next week, ok?"  
  
Mark was still chuckling as he said, "Fine with me, but you really shouldn't let her manipulate you like that."  
  
Olivia brandished her fork about as she spoke. "Oh, what's the harm, really? She's a lonely old woman and surgery's a scary thing. Might as well put her at ease." She pointed at Mark with her fork as if to make a point. "Now if you were putting such ideas into her head, we would have to have a serious talk."  
  
Mark held both hands up innocently and laughed, "Oh, no, I'm not looking for trouble."  
  
She turned to Steve and asked accusingly, "And just what is that grin for?"  
  
He took her by complete surprise as he kissed her on the tip of the nose and said, "I was just thinking how lucky I am."  
  
Liv blushed and said, "Oh, Steve."  
  
Jesse folded his hands, batted his eyes, and said, "Awwwwww." Then he said "Owwwww!!" as both Liv and Steve kicked him under the table.  
  
Turning to Amanda, Liv said, "So, how are the boys?"  
  
"They're doing great," Amanda beamed. "Dion just got his progress report. Four A's and three B's, and CJ's got the lead in his class play."  
  
And so went lunch. In Steve's mind, Liv was like a queen holding court. Everyone got a chance to talk, and she had a witty, pithy, or practical comment for everything that was said. For him, having her beside him made a normal lunch with his dad and friends a rare pleasure, and he savored every moment of it.  
  
As lunch ended, Liv graciously offered to collect everyone's trays and dishes and carried them to the return area. There was a bit more than she could reliably carry, so Steve helped her. As she left the cafeteria, he automatically fell into step beside her.  
  
Halfway to her office, she said, "I know the way, Steve."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"So what's up?"  
  
"Remember at the precinct I told you I wanted to talk with you about your letter a little more?"  
  
"Oh."  
  
He stopped her and turned to face her. "Would you rather put it off until this evening?"  
  
She thought a moment, then said, "Don't see much use in that, do you?"  
  
He grinned and said, "Good, we're on the same wavelength."  
  
In the office, he began. He'd been thinking, and felt he really had a handle on the matter.  
  
"I'm no shrink, Liv, but I'd be happy to go to Dr. Gregg with you or to let you go by yourself. I just want to know that we're working on this problem together, ok?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"The way I see it, and please correct me if I'm wrong, this problem boils down to three basic issues: love, independence, and trust. Is that about right?"  
  
She nodded again, and the small smile on her face encouraged him.  
  
"Ok, as far as love goes, I love you. I adore you. I worship you. I will continue to do so even after our bones have crumbled to dust and blown away on the wind."  
  
"Oh, Steve," she said, "I love you, too, so much I wish we could share the same skin."  
  
He looked at her and smiled adoringly. "You do?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"Thanks." Immediately he was all business again. "Now, about independence. I think couples are stronger and more complete when the individuals spend time apart. I think it's important to have experiences and adventures that are separate from your partner. That way, when you come back together, you both have new and exciting things to share. But I want you to know one thing, I would never dream of having an intimate relationship with anyone else, and I wouldn't want you to either."  
  
"Steve, I would never consider a relationship that wasn't monogamous and mutually exclusive, and like you, I think it's important to have our separate lives. It brings more to the relationship. I know as a cop there will be times when you are gone for a while on stakeout or working nights. There will be times when I want to go off like I did last week and be alone. I just want to know that when I'm through doing my thing, and you're through doing your thing we'll each come home to the other."  
  
"I'm ok with that, Liv. Don't ever think you need my permission." He grinned. "But in the future, don't tape a note to my door. Talk to me or put the note on my pillow before you go off, ok?"  
  
She laughed halfheartedly and said, "You got it, babe."  
  
"So," he said, "When it comes to love and independence, we have pretty much the same ideas, huh?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
He rested his chin on folded hands. "Then what's the problem with trust, Liv?"  
  
After a long pause she said, "I talked with Dr. Gregg about this today."  
  
"You did?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"And what did you resolve?"  
  
She became thoughtful. Quietly she said, "I need to know that you can still love me in spite of the fears and nightmares and mistakes I haven't told you about yet."  
  
"Liv, honey, I can say, 'trust me' until I turn blue and pass out. But I can't prove myself until you give me the chance. You have to tell me what it is that you think is so terrible that it would split us up."  
  
Teary-eyed now, she answered, "I know, Steve, but I can't do that here."  
  
Confused, he asked, "Do you want to go back to your house or to Dr. Gregg's office?"  
  
She laughed sweetly but ironically, "No, babe, when I say here, I mean in this world, surrounded by your friends and family and familiar places. That's why I want you to go back to Pennsylvania with me."  
  
Steve took her hand and said, "Sweetie, you have friends here."  
  
She pulled away, "Yeah, Steve, your friends. I do love them, but it's not the same. It's not the same as being home." She took a deep, shaky breath and said, "I promise you, when we go to Pennsylvania I will tell you…everything that I'm afraid to tell you. Back there I have roots, history, and a foundation. I have a past, troubled as it may be. If our little dream castle falls apart, I'll have something to rebuild on. Out here…all I have are the shifting sands of the beach at Malibu."  
  
He stared at her until she locked eyes with him.  
  
"I won't let you down, Liv. I'll wait until your ready, then I'll prove that you can trust me."  
  
"I know that's what you believe, Steve Sloan. I hope you're right."  
  
They did not discuss the issue of trust again.  
  
  
  
  
  
Over the next two weeks, Steve and Olivia developed a comfortable routine. When he worked late, he spent the night at her house, and when he got off early, he'd pick her up and take her out to Malibu with him. He or his dad would then take her back to her place on the way in to work in the morning.  
  
They often made love when he spent the night at her house. It was fun for each of them to find new ways of pleasing the other. Olivia had discovered his ticklish spot, and she delighted in attacking him at the most inopportune moments. Their lovemaking always ended the same way, though, and that gave Steve the greatest pleasure of all. She would curl up beside him and sigh like a contented cat, and resting her head on his chest, she would lightly tap her fingers on his ribcage to the rhythm of his heartbeat.  
  
Nights when she stayed at the beach house, she insisted on sleeping in the guest room.  
  
"Liv," Steve insisted, "Dad gives me my privacy. He won't interrupt."  
  
"That's not the point, baby," she said, caressing his cheek. "It's a matter of respect. He's your father, my boss."  
  
"And it's my apartment."  
  
"In his house. If you like, I can go back to my place. Alone. Or I can stay here, in the guest room. But as long as he lives here I will not tryst with you in this house."  
  
Steve had finally capitulated, but he got little sleep those nights she spent just up the stairs from him.  
  
Some nights, they both brought work home. She would have notes to dictate and forms to sign, and he would have files to read through looking to put the pieces of a murder together. One night they were in the den working in companionable silence when suddenly Steve went into a fit of temper.  
  
"Dammit all to hell!" He closed the file and threw it on the coffee table.  
  
"Steve! Mind you tongue!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Liv, but don't get on me about my language right now." He rose and began to pace the room. Pointing to the file, he said, "That is a nine- year-old boy. Somebody bashed his skull in, and I can't even identify the…darned…murder weapon. I'm not even sure there was only one weapon. It looks like three distinct objects, and I can't figure out what any of them are."  
  
She looked him over a minute and said, "I see. Well, cussing and wearing a hole in the rug isn't going to help. Get us something to drink, and we'll both take a look at the file. I'll take a Jed's."  
  
Steve walked off grumbling and came back scowling with a beer in one hand and a Jed's hard lemonade in the other. Olivia had pushed the coffee table out a couple feet and was sitting cross-legged on the couch. She indicated that Steve should sit on the floor in front of her. He knew that meant he was about to get a neck rub, and he was grateful.  
  
Putting her drink down, she said, "Ok, before you open the file, tell me what you know."  
  
Steve took a swig on his beer, closed his eyes, and, as Liv's strong fingers massaged the muscles at the base of his skull, he began to recite the details of the case. "Nine-year-old Jason McIntyre stayed home from school sick on Friday, January 18. He was found dead in the back yard at three fifteen when his older brother came home from school and went outside to feed the dog. He's the third of four children. Older sister, Anna, is a sophomore in high school. Older brother, Darren, is in the eighth grade, and younger sister, Jennie, is in second grade. The father, Frank, forty- nine, is the manager of a local sporting goods store, and the mother, Renee, thirty-eight, is a part time receptionist for an orthodontist, Dr. Harold…Askins, I think. It's in the file, and he does the kids teeth."  
  
Liv gently pushed his head forward and began to work on his neck and shoulders. "Wow."  
  
"Wow, what?"  
  
"You have an amazing memory for detail. I never knew."  
  
Steve shrugged. "It's a skill you develop with the job. Saves you the trouble of looking everything up all the time."  
  
"I see. Continue."  
  
"Jason died of severe head trauma, but we can't tell what he was hit with. We're not even sure how many times he was hit. The wounds are a funny shape, and it looks like he was hit from both the left and the right."  
  
"Weird."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Was he killed at the scene or moved there after he died?"  
  
"Died at the scene."  
  
Olivia was kneading the muscles in his upper back now, and he sighed as the tension of the day melted away.  
  
"Who stayed home with him?"  
  
"His mother."  
  
"The other kids were all at school, and the father was at work for sure?"  
  
"Yep. Alibi's all check out."  
  
"So who are your suspects?"  
  
"The only one we have is the mother."  
  
"That stinks."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You have pictures of the scene and x-rays in the file?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Show me."  
  
Steve craned his neck to look at her. "Liv, they're pretty grisly."  
  
She nudged him forward and sat on the floor behind him, straddling him with her legs and continued massaging his middle and lower back. Despite the conversation, Steve found himself getting very aroused. Liv, on the other hand was all business.  
  
"You said it yourself, it's a nine-year-old boy. I want to help if I can. If I can't stand to look, I'll just put the pictures back."  
  
She leaned sideways to peek around him as her thumbs made small circles on each side of the vertebrae all the way down his spine. He heard her gasp when he spread out the pictures to reveal the photos of the young victim.  
  
"My God, Steve. I can't believe you deal with this kind of thing every day."  
  
"It's worse when it's a kid, but you learn to build walls."  
  
Liv sat very still for a long time and stared at the pictures. Only her hands moved as she continued massaging his back. Steve wrapped her legs around his waist and began rubbing her feet hoping that keeping his hands busy would distract him from other body parts that were getting busy all by themselves. It didn't work.  
  
Suddenly she gasped a little "Oh!" and jumped up, saying, "I'll be right back. Don't move a thing."  
  
Steve groaned in frustration. Then he laughed. At least she wasn't giggling.  
  
A few minutes later, she came back with a melon and a ski pole.  
  
She moved the papers on her desk off to the side, stacked a few books on the corner, and sat the melon on top of them.  
  
"That's about the right height for a nine-year-old," she muttered.  
  
Then she took the picture that showed Jason's injuries, studied it for a moment, and whacked the melon twice with the ski pole.  
  
"Now he falls to his knees," she told Steve.  
  
She put the melon on the desk chair, and tilted it a little away from her. It rolled back, so she got an eraser from the desk and used it to prop the melon in place. She whacked it twice more.  
  
She put the melon on the floor and again propped it in position with the eraser.  
  
"Now he's on the ground."  
  
She whacked the melon one more time and brought it and the picture over to Steve for comparison.  
  
Pointing to two grooves in the melon rind and then to two corresponding wounds on Jason's skull, she said, "He was standing up fairly close to his attacker for the first two blows." She put the pole in one of the grooves. "The shaft of the pole hit him, but not the basket," she said, indicating first the pole itself, then the small metal disk at the end.  
  
Next, she pointed to two t-shaped wounds, "When he dropped to his knees, he was farther away from his attacker, and the basket dug in a little because it's at the end of the pole."  
  
Indicating the remaining wound, which was really just a slit, she explained, "When he was all the way down, the basket was all that caught him, and this is what you get. It looks like he was hit from the left and right because the basket crosses the pole at right angles."  
  
"One, problem, Liv," Steve said. "Skulls are a lot harder than melons."  
  
"Not when you're nine years old. Besides, the new graphite and alloy ski poles are a lot tougher than old-fashioned aluminum ones like this."  
  
"You know, someone told me you don't ski."  
  
"I only tried it once. Tore up my ankle and my knee."  
  
"And you still have the equipment?"  
  
"Just the pole, for a souvenir."  
  
She pulled over a picture that showed a green station wagon in the background. "Find that car, and you'll find the murder weapon."  
  
Steve took a closer look and saw what she was talking about.  
  
"Skis."  
  
"Yup. And talk to the mother. I don't know if it was negligence or intent, but she had something to do with this."  
  
Steve was puzzled. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"He was nine years old and home sick from school. My mama wouldn't have let me out of the bed, let alone out of the house, would yours?"  
  
Steve shook his head. "No, she wouldn't."  
  
She sat back down behind him, wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his chest, rested her cheek in the center of his back, and said, "Please put those awful pictures away now."  
  
He could hear her weeping as he did what she asked. He pried her hands loose, stood up, and offered her a hand up. When she rose, he took her in his arms.  
  
"I'm sorry I let you look at the pictures."  
  
"I wouldn't have been able to help if you hadn't. I feel good about helping, but I just can't imagine what kind of person would do something so horrible."  
  
"Well, when we find out and send the person to jail, I'll be sure to let you know."  
  
He scooped her up and carried her back to bed. That night they didn't make love. He just held her close while she cried for little Jason McIntyre.  
  
  
  
  
  
A few days later they were all having dinner at the beach house when Steve said, "Liv, you were right on the money about Jason McIntyre."  
  
The smile fell from her face and she said softly, "Was I?"  
  
He nodded, his mouth full of hamburger and fries.  
  
Swallowing, he began to tell the whole tale. "The car belonged to the orthodontist. He and the mother were having an affair. Jason woke up and went looking for his mother to make him some soup."  
  
She stood up from the table. "Oh, Steve," she said, "I don't think I can hear any more." She went into the living room.  
  
As his father and friends exchanged worried glances, he said, "It'll be ok. We'll be right back."  
  
He followed her into the living room and wrapped his arms around her. She was crying.  
  
"Liv," he said gently, "I know it's horrible, but I have found that knowing the ending makes it easier to deal with. Will you let me tell you what we found?"  
  
After a moment, she nodded and said, "Just make it quick."  
  
"Jason caught them in the act. The orthodontist told the mother he'd take care of it. She thought he was going to talk to Jason and make him promise to keep it a secret. While she was showering, the orthodontist did exactly what you said. Then he went for a walk. When the mother got out of the shower, the house was quiet. She thought Jason had gone back to bed and her lover had gone home. She didn't know what had happened until her older son found the body. The orthodontist still had the ski pole on the roof of his car. He hadn't even bothered to clean it."  
  
In an empty voice, she asked, "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"  
  
Steve sat on the couch and pulled her into his lap.  
  
"Maybe not right away, but you might get some satisfaction from knowing that the person who did it will pay for his crime."  
  
"And that little boy's still dead."  
  
Steve sighed in frustration.  
  
"Yeah, he is. I'm no miracle worker, Liv. What's done is done. The system can't undo a crime, but it can exact payment."  
  
"And that little boy's still dead," she reiterated.  
  
Steve was losing patience.  
  
"Liv, this may sound harsh, but my job is not to mourn for the dead. It is to find their killers. I cannot indulge in the former and still do the latter. I'd never survive. I cannot feel for that little boy the way you do, but I can be damned glad we got his killer."  
  
He saw her flinch when he cursed, and immediately felt sorry.  
  
"I'm proud and grateful that you figured it out, Liv, because I don't think I could have, but don't expect me to grieve for him. I just can't do that."  
  
He heard her sniffle and she turned to lay her head against his chest. "I'm sorry, Steve. I guess I just haven't developed those walls you were talking about the other day."  
  
"That's ok, sweetie. I wouldn't want you to. I love you the way you are."  
  
"I'm proud of you, Steve, that you can do such a…grim…job, but maybe I shouldn't try to help any more."  
  
"Ok, honey," he said kissing her temple. "That'll be just fine," but secretly he wondered what kind of strain it would put on their relationship. He and his dad and his friends spent so much time discussing his cases, he wondered how often she would be left out. He gave a mental shrug. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.  
  
He shook his head when he got that weird image of the broken suspension bridge again.  
  
"Let's go finish our dinner, ok?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
Back at the table, there was a collective gasp when Jesse thoughtlessly asked, "By the way, Liv. How in the world did you guess that the murder weapon was a ski pole?"  
  
Jesse squirmed in embarrassment, but thought saying anything else would only draw more attention to his faux pas.  
  
After the briefest hesitation, Liv said, "I've seen it before."  
  
Everyone waited for further explanation, but none seemed to be forthcoming. Liv had a glint in her eye that Steve knew all to well. If she didn't volunteer the rest of the story, he would ask her, but first he wanted to see if anyone else spotted the mischief in her eyes. Finally, Amanda decided the best thing to do would be to get the whole story out now and save them all the awkwardness of wondering when they'd hear the rest and what the fallout would be. "Ok, I'll bite. When and where?"  
  
Olivia smiled and it made her eyes sparkle. With some satisfaction, Steve thought things might be ok after all. He had never known a woman who could shift emotional gears the way Liv could, and in all her many moods, he had never seen a nasty one.  
  
"When I was eighteen, I bought myself a pair of skis for Christmas."  
  
They all leaned forward as they sensed a story spinning.  
  
"The only decent slope around was also a cow pasture. It didn't seem nearly as steep walking up as it did flying down at three thousand miles an hour."  
  
They all chuckled.  
  
"Dodging cow patties was no picnic for a beginner, either."  
  
Everyone groaned.  
  
"I hit a cow."  
  
The whole gang laughed out loud.  
  
"Somehow, she stepped on my right ski." Olivia gestured straight ahead as if she were pointing down the slope. "I was still going." Slapping her thigh, she said, "My right leg stopped."  
  
Her audience moaned in sympathetic pain.  
  
Olivia held up both hands as if framing a picture. "I hit her back left flank, bounced off, and fell down to my right. I was moving fast enough and the surface of the snow was hard enough that I started to roll…right under the wrong end of the cow."  
  
Everyone became still.  
  
"My leg stayed where it was. She did what your thinking."  
  
The table exploded in laughter. Steve saw his father dab away tears of mirth. Amanda shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. Jesse bounced in his chair like an excited child.  
  
Olivia waited for quiet before she continued.  
  
"Then she shifted her weight to stand on my knee. I broke through the crust of the snow at the pressure point, but most of my calf and thigh stayed on the surface, so things were all bent out of shape."  
  
They all moaned in sympathy again.  
  
"There is nothing so implacable as cow in winter pasture. She wouldn't move. One of her feet was on the ski, and the other was on my knee. I couldn't reach the binding to loose my foot from the ski, and I couldn't roll up hill, so there was no way to release the pressure on my knee and ankle. The manure was starting to freeze fast."  
  
Steve cringed and saw Amanda shiver at the thought.  
  
"So I beat her with the ski pole until she moved."  
  
Liv held her hands up again, this time as if she were holding something. "My knee swelled up as big as a basketball, and my ankle was the size of a bowling ball." Olivia started to snicker. "The cow had little T-shaped welts on her butt. I was on crutches until Easter."  
  
"And that's why you don't ski, huh?" Jesse asked.  
  
Liv nodded with a laugh, "And precisely why I never will."  
  
  
  
  
  
Most of the time now, Steve felt like he was back to one hundred percent. The only times he got stiff and sore were when he had spent an extended time sitting or after extra strenuous physical activity like a long chase after a suspect. He'd had no problem at all fitting the exercises Davis had prescribed into his regular workout routine. Most of them were just regular fitness and bodybuilding exercises. He still wore the brace a few nights a week, and it made his leg ache some, but he hadn't had any muscle spasms in weeks. Olivia still insisted that he keep his Darvocet handy, just in case, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd needed anything stronger than a couple of Advil.  
  
One morning when they both had the day off, he decided to get Liv to teach him about yoga. She'd told him several times that it could help with his occasional stiffness, and she said the meditation would leave him mentally sharper and more alert. He had often enjoyed watching her go through her routine, and had noticed that it always left her considerably mellower than on the days she didn't work out. If nothing else, he expected to get a good stretch and a nice view of her shapely bottom.  
  
As it turned out, he got more than he bargained for.  
  
"Ok," she said excitedly. "There are ten positions, and each one has specific healthful effects on the body. I generally coordinate the routine with my breathing, but that can wait until you learn to perform each position properly. For now, I just want you to hold each position for a while and breathe."  
  
Steve nodded. "Sounds easy enough."  
  
"Don't be surprised if you have a hard time at first," she said in a warning tone. "It takes a lot more strength and concentration than you might think. In some of the positions, you'll be using a lot of the little stabilizing muscles that generally don't get a workout when you lift weights or do aerobic activities."  
  
"Liv, I've been athletic all my life. This should not be difficult for me."  
  
"We'll see," she said knowingly. "If you stick with it you'll see your strength, stamina, balance, and flexibility all improve."  
  
"Bring it on, babe."  
  
The first position was called Vajrasan. At first he couldn't quite get his butt to touch his heels the way Liv did, but she told him that would come in time. She told him she would have him hold the position for two or three minutes, but it seemed much longer. He started to fidget.  
  
"Be still, Steve, and square your shoulders," she told him softly. "Close your eyes, and breathe deeply."  
  
He tried to match his breathing with hers, but like the day in Dr. Gregg's office, he couldn't follow the slow pace she set.  
  
He couldn't resist a peek at her. Her eyes were closed and she had a tranquil expression on her lovely face. After a moment, she told him, "Close your eyes and find your own rhythm. Don't try to keep up with me. You shouldn't be able to. I've had more practice, and your metabolism is higher because you're a man and you have so much more muscle mass. You *should* require more oxygen."  
  
He quickly shut his eyes. He felt like a kid caught cheating on a test. She had never opened her eyes. He wondered if she knew he was peeking and how she knew he'd been trying to match her breathing. He heard her move, but before he could do anything, she said, "Keep your eyes closed, and keep breathing."  
  
She gently squared his shoulders, straightened his arms, and lifted his chin. Her touch left him tingling. By the time she let him change position, his thighs were burning, and his butt had settled on to his heels.  
  
"Very good," she encouraged him. "The next position is called Greeting to the Master. I often say the Lord's Prayer when I'm on this position because God is my master. Other people have another master, but that doesn't work for me. Look at me and do what I do."  
  
Slowly and fluidly, she brought her arms up and over her head, placed her hands together, arched her back, and looked at her hands.  
  
He mimicked her moves, and felt muscles stretch through his torso and back.  
  
"Good. Arch your back a little more and straighten your arms."  
  
He did as he was told and felt his arms start to tingle.  
  
"Ok, now focus on holding that position. Don't let yourself slouch, and don't let your arms bend."  
  
He found himself breaking a sweat by the time she told him to move again.  
  
"Time for a little rest. This is called the Hare. Bend forward at the hips and put your forearms flat on the floor over your head. Touch your forehead to the floor, and try to keep your butt down, but don't push it."  
  
He could feel his neck, shoulders, and back relax as he continued to breathe deeply.  
  
"That's excellent, Steve."  
  
It seemed she let him stay in the position a little longer than the others, but he found it unexpectedly comfortable and didn't complain.  
  
The next position was called the caterpillar, and it was surprisingly complex. He had the Devil's own time making his body do what it was supposed to, and finally, Liv had to laugh at him a little.  
  
"Here," she said with a chuckle. "Let me help."  
  
She put a finger on the floor in front of his face and said, "Put your chin here and look straight ahead at the baseboard."  
  
He did.  
  
"Good. Now, chest on the floor, hands on the floor, palms down beside your shoulders." She helped him position his hands and pulled his elbows in a bit.  
  
"Butt in the air," she said, and as she put one hand against his pelvis and the other on his rear to help him get into position, all the tingling that had been going on in his body migrated instantly toward her touch.  
  
"Ohhh," he moaned.  
  
"Steve, if it hurts, we should stop."  
  
"It doesn't hurt," he said, suddenly short of breath.  
  
"Then what's wrong?"  
  
"It's just…where you're touching me."  
  
"Oh." As she felt his arousal, her hands jerked away as if she had burned them.  
  
"OH!" After a pause, she flexed his feet so his toes curled under. "Now, just relax, and find your breathing rhythm again."  
  
He focused on his breathing, and, fortunately, as it slowed and deepened again, *everything* started to relax  
  
"You ok?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"All right. Now the cobra's easy."  
  
He watched as she straightened her legs, laid her feet flat, and pushed her torso up. He copied her.  
  
"Shoulders down, Steve. Don't lift your pelvis."  
  
He felt a good stretch through his chest and ribs, but after a while, his arms started to tremble. By now, he was dripping with perspiration. He snuck another peek at Olivia and jealously thought she looked like she could hold that position, or any of the others, all day.  
  
"Now the Mountain," she finally said. "Watch carefully." She modeled her instructions as she gave them. "Tuck your toes under, straighten your legs, and raise your butt way up. Shift your weight back, and put your heels down. Hands on the floor and arms straight, let your head hang relaxed between your arms. Look at your bellybutton. Don't hyperextend your knees."  
  
It looked simple, but Steve had barely started to move when she stopped him with a, "Nope!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Don't rock back on your knees. Keep your legs straight and just lift your butt."  
  
This time, he found it much more difficult, but he managed to get his rear in the air. He also managed to get himself stuck.  
  
"Uh, Liv."  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"I can't put my heels down."  
  
"It will come in time, sweetie. For now just hold your position where you are."  
  
An eternity passed.  
  
"Ok. Now walk your feet forward until you can put your heels down."  
  
He was amazed to feel the stretch in his calf muscles.  
  
The next position was Sprinter. It was a basic lunge, but by this time he was so tired, he had trouble maintaining his balance for two minutes. For the position Hero, all he had to do was stay in the lunge and put his hands together over his head and stretch, but this time he lost his balance altogether and fell over.  
  
Olivia didn't move a muscle, but she giggled at him and said, "Take a break, go back to the Sprinter position and try again."  
  
He watched her for a minute. She was totally absorbed in her breathing. Now he understood why she could not hear him when he knocked at her door on Christmas morning. He went back to the Sprinter position, shifted into the Hero position and this time successfully held it until she told him to move again.  
  
She had him go back to Sprinter, then into the Forward Bend. It simply involved putting his feet and hands flat on the floor beside each other, but he couldn't quite do it.  
  
"Liv, my arms aren't long enough. I can touch the floor all right, but I can't put my hands down flat."  
  
She giggled again, and he had to smile.  
  
"Your arms are the perfect length, Steve. You just lack flexibility. It will come in time. For now, just hang out."  
  
As he relaxed his upper body, he felt his back and neck stretch and his shoulders relax. The next position was a simple stretch, just like Greeting to the Master, except that he was standing with his feet together instead of kneeling.  
  
"Good, Steve. Great. You're halfway done."  
  
"Huh? There's more? God."  
  
"Relax, babe. There's nothing new at this point. It's all the same stuff, just in reverse order."  
  
There were subtle differences in how he moved from one position to the next, but on the whole, Steve felt much more confident going through the second half of the routine. In the Mountain position, he had to walk forward again to get his heels on the floor, and he still needed Liv's help with the Caterpillar, but by the end of the routine, he felt almost exhilarated.  
  
Finally, he and Liv sat facing each other in the Vajrasan position. She looked calm and relaxed, but he was soaked with perspiration.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
With some chagrin, he admitted, "Like I've had a real workout. I would never have believed how strenuous it was if I hadn't tried it myself. I can't believe you didn't even break a sweat."  
  
She chuckled. "I'm sorry, this is usually not in my nature, but, I TOLD YOU SO."  
  
Steve laughed good-naturedly and said, "Yes, you did. In the future I will know not to doubt you."  
  
"Good. Now, my routine involves all the positions, synchronized with regulated breathing, but as a beginner, if you just hold each of the positions for a minute or two, and breathe normally, you'll get just as good a workout. If you don't want to do the entire sequence, focus on caterpillar, cobra, mountain, sprinter, and hero. They would be especially good for you because they all work on the pelvis and legs."  
  
She had him hold the sprinter position while she demonstrated what her whole routine looked like with the breathing and everything. When she was half finished, she had him switch to the Hero, and he struggled to maintain his balance. He could hear her breath as she inhaled and exhaled with her movements. It only took her a few minutes to complete the routine.  
  
"Wow. I guess I was really slowing you down."  
  
"You'll get better with practice," she assured him.  
  
After that, Steve and Liv worked out together almost every day. Whenever she caught him ogling her, she'd find some small error in his posture that she simply had to get up and correct. It became a pleasant game, trying to catch a peek without getting caught peeking, and she never complained about having to break her concentration to correct him. In short order, he found his posture and stamina improving. He didn't get frustrated at work as easily, and, most surprisingly, he reduced his coffee intake by nearly a third. Soon he was taking the workouts seriously and genuinely trying to perfect his poses.  
  
One day, Mark and Jesse happened to walk in on him and Liv while they were exercising in his living room at the beach house.  
  
"I don't know, Mark," Jesse said with a snicker, "Don't you think he's getting a little carried away with this?"  
  
"As long as he doesn't come home in saffron robes with a shaved head, I guess it's ok, Jess."  
  
Liv opened one eye and looked at them, "Those are the Hare Krishnas; this is Khatu Pranam, a yoga sequence developed at Khatu Ashram on the edge of the Thar Desert in the west of Rajasthan, India where the saint Bhagwan Sri Deep Narayan Mahaprabhuji lived for 135 years. I just do it for the exercise. The Krishna's are a religious cult."  
  
"So," Jesse asked, "When does the chanting start?"  
  
Without opening his eyes, Steve said, "No chanting, just breathing."  
  
Liv added, "If I have a mantra, it's 'Thy will be done,' from the Lord's Prayer. Now go away, children and have your fun at someone else's expense, or find the courage to give it a try so you know whereof you speak."  
  
Some time later, Liv and Steve came upstairs for a snack to find Mark and Jesse facing each other, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, with towels wrapped around their heads, barely containing their laughter, chanting, "Om Mane Padme Om."  
  
Before Steve could say anything, Liv winked at him and said acidly, "Y'know, there's a position like that in the Kama Sutra."  
  
Steve snorted with laughter as Jesse jumped to his feet and Mark blushed crimson.  
  
Olivia continued dryly, "But you're not doing it right. The turban's are all wrong, they won't stay on."  
  
Mark took the towel off his head and threw it to Jesse. Not knowing what to do with it, Jesse threw it back to Mark as his own faulty turban came unwound and flopped over his face.  
  
Liv finished her critique, "Your feet should be turned soles up on your thighs in the classic lotus position, and the mantra is 'Om Mane Padme Hung.' It's a way of calling Chenrezig, Lord of Love. Like I said, children," she spoke venomously, "know whereof you speak--and tease. I've been practicing yoga for almost twenty years."  
  
She sniffed and went into the kitchen without so much as a backward glance.  
  
Picking up on her tone, Steve looked at the two of them and asked, "Are you proud of yourselves?"  
  
Mark and Jesse looked shamefacedly at each other and then at Steve.  
  
"We didn't mean anything by it," Mark said defensively.  
  
"We were just kidding around, Steve. You don't think we really offended her, do you?" asked Jesse.  
  
Steve stood feet apart, hands on hips, and said sarcastically, "I don't know guys, what do you think? You should have seen her face when she walked in here."  
  
"Jess," Mark said seriously.  
  
"Yeah, Mark, I know. An apology is definitely in order."  
  
"I'm so glad you both see it that way," Steve said bitterly.  
  
Mark and Jesse shuffled to the kitchen, heads hanging, dragging their towels. Steve followed them, and when he caught Olivia's eye, he gave her the thumbs up signal behind their backs. She killed a grin before Mark and Jesse could look at her.  
  
"Liv?" Jesse started.  
  
Bang! She slammed a couple of plates on the counter and the noise made Jesse and Mark jump.  
  
"What?" She snapped, refusing to look at him.  
  
"Liv, we're sorry. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings."  
  
Thump! Whack! Cold cuts and mayonnaise joined the plates.  
  
"Really? Maybe you should have considered that before you tied a bath towel around your head."  
  
Thud! A bowl of tomatoes and lettuce took its place on the counter.  
  
"Liv, honey, we're so sorry," Mark finally found his voice. "We never thought you'd take it so seriously. It was all in fun."  
  
"I just have one thing to say," she told them in a tearful voice.  
  
She sniffed deeply, looked Mark in the eye, flashed an impish grin, and said, "Gotcha!!"  
  
Steve began to laugh hysterically. After a moment of gaping confusion, Mark and Jesse realized the tables had been subtly turned to make them the butt of a brilliantly executed joke and they joined in the laughter.  
  
Pointing at Steve, Mark said, "I won't soon forget this, son."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of letting you, Dad," Steve laughingly replied.  
  
"We will get even," Jesse vowed.  
  
Olivia told him, "Catch me if you can! Now who wants what on their sandwiches?"  
  
  
  
  
  
One morning at the beach house, Olivia woke early and padded out to the kitchen in her fuzzy yellow robe and overstuffed elephant slippers. She poured herself a cup of coffee that had apparently made itself as Mark was nowhere to be found, and headed out to the deck. She was surprised to see Steve there. He was not usually an early riser.  
  
He was standing perfectly still, staring at the ocean. The sun rising behind the house turned the near side of the dunes and waves a shimmering gold and left the far side into darkness. It highlighted Steve's hair, too, and cast his face in shadow. Liv watched him in silence for a long time. After a moment, she saw him close his eyes.  
  
"Good morning, Liv," he said, eyes still closed.  
  
"Good morning, babe. Whatcha lookin' at?"  
  
She saw him smile, and he said, "The future."  
  
She smiled, too, and played along. "Oh. Whatcha see?"  
  
"Come here and I'll show you."  
  
She moved to stand beside him, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Never opening his eyes, he began to describe the scene in his mind.  
  
"Right down there, Liv, where it levels off above the high tide line, I see an old man with snowy white hair sitting in a folding chair. There's a demolished picnic spread out on the blanket at his feet, and there are several other people sitting on the edges of the blanket. There's a tall, very elegant black woman at the end of the blanket, and a man who is obviously her husband with his arm around her. To the old man's left is a small blond guy, just starting to go gray, who is teasing an attractive blonde woman. They are clearly a couple. On the old man's right, there's this big guy who looks a lot like the old man, and his hair is getting pretty gray. He's stretched out full length on the blanket, and he has his head resting in the lap of this tiny, spirited redhead. He's so big, and she's so small, she looks like a child, but anyone can tell they've been madly in love for years."  
  
"Mmm," Liv sighed.  
  
"Wait, there's more. There are several younger people on the beach, playing in the surf. Two handsome young black men, each with a date, a blonde kid, considerably younger than the rest, and a stunning, statuesque redhead in her early twenties. She's walking arm in arm with a handsome young man, and they are both quite happy. The little redhead on the blanket is playing with her husband's hair, and she says something to him that makes him look at his daughter and her date, and the two young people come over to them."  
  
"Oh? What has the redhead told her husband?"  
  
"Just that the kids want to talk to him. The daughter shows him a ring on her left hand, and he gets up and hugs her. Then he shakes the young man's hand. The daughter gives her granddad a hug and a kiss, and her fiancé shakes his hand. There are lots of hugs and handshakes, and much admiring of the ring. As the sun starts to set, the people gather up their picnic and head for the house, with the men joking about a bachelor party and the women talking about color schemes and flowers."  
  
"You're quite a visionary, Steve. Do you hallucinate often?"  
  
He chuckled and said, "It's not a hallucination, Liv. It's a dream, maybe a wish. But it's so real I can see every detail. There's another image I can't shake."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I see the same people, all dressed up, the men in tuxedos, the women in beautiful dresses. The young redhead and her lover are standing beneath an arch of flowers, and a crowd of friends sits in white folding chairs watching the ceremony. The redhead's mother and father and grandfather watch in delight as she says her vows and gets a kiss from her new husband."  
  
"Steve…"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You're an incurable romantic."  
  
He laughed, "Yeah, I guess so, but you have to admit, it sounds pretty nice doesn't it?"  
  
"It sounds wonderful."  
  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks flew by, and before they knew it, the time had come to go to Pennsylvania. They were taking an overnight flight into Pittsburgh International Airport, and driving to her hometown from there. They would arrive in the wee hours of the morning with virtually no traffic and have time to get settled at Liv's place before anyone knew they were in town.  
  
Mark drove them to the airport.  
  
"Have a good flight, try to get some sleep on the plane, stay warm, and send me a postcard."  
  
"Sure thing, Dad."  
  
"Call when you get there so I know you made it safely."  
  
"We will, Dad."  
  
"Hey Mark, I'll see if I can get some pictures of Steve with Phil for you."  
  
"Phil?"  
  
"The groundhog!"  
  
"Oh! Yeah, that would be neat."  
  
Steve looked at Liv and said, "I'm not making friends with an overgrown rat."  
  
She just laughed at him, gave Mark a kiss on the cheek, and waved as he drove off. 


	32. Burying Skeletons and Exorcising Ghosts

Aunt Dottie is really the author's Aunt Dot. Punxsutawney is a real town, and Phil is a real groundhog.  
  
Details of the local geography have been somewhat altered, but the author has tried to retain the small town atmosphere that she remembers from visiting Punx'y and surrounding areas in her misspent youth.  
  
  
  
(Chapter 32. February 1. Pittsburgh International Airport.)  
  
"Steve, baby, wake up. We're here."  
  
Steve woke slowly to the quiet murmurs of weary travelers gathering their things. He yawned, stretched, turned to Olivia, and smiled.  
  
"Home sweet home?"  
  
Olivia smiled back weakly. She looked scared.  
  
"Actually, home is another two and a half hours on the road."  
  
"Oh. Well, what time is it?"  
  
"It's about ten after three in the morning. That makes it ten after midnight back in LA. It's eighteen degrees and windy, so thank me for making you wear your longies."  
  
He grinned and kissed her and said, "Thank you, dear."  
  
Olivia still looked scared.  
  
"You all right, Liv?"  
  
"I haven't slept in days, Steve, and I'm nervous as a cucumber in a pickle factory."  
  
He laughed, "A nervous cucumber with a sense of humor. That'll help, Liv, and so will I."  
  
She smiled again, this time with a little more confidence and said, "Thanks, babe."  
  
They gathered their things and exited the plane. They moved to the lower level, and as they searched for the baggage claim, a blast of cold wind from an open door finally brought Steve fully awake. "Jeeze, Liv! How do people live like this?"  
  
She handed him a toboggan hat and some gloves, and laughed at him.  
  
"They work hard to keep warm during the day, and they cuddle up at night."  
  
"Now that cuddling part might not be so bad," Steve admitted thoughtfully as he gratefully slipped the gloves on. He stuffed the hat in his pocket.  
  
Olivia took hold of his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders as she strolled along by his side. "We have some time to practice right now," she told him.  
  
He kissed the top of her head, and said, "I'd be delighted." Noticing her bare hands, he asked, "Where are your gloves?"  
  
"I never wear them. I just don't like them because you can't feel a darned thing. I use my pockets. Besides, it's a good excuse for you to hold my hand."  
  
Steve laughed, "You're something else, you know that?"  
  
"That's one of the politest names I've ever been called."  
  
They soon found the baggage carrousel, and Olivia gave him the claim tickets.  
  
"We'll get home just in time for the early breakfast at Casey's Diner, then I figured we'd just drive around a while. I want to see the sights before we start visiting."  
  
"Ok. Whatever you say, love."  
  
"You're so obliging."  
  
"I am a stranger in a strange land. I'm just thankful for the long underwear, coat, and gloves."  
  
Olivia laughed at him again. "Don't forget the hat. You'll want to put that on soon enough."  
  
He was glad to see she was loosening up.  
  
"There's no sense in both of us standing around, babe," Olivia said and kissed him. "You get the bags, I'm going to pick up the car, and meet you right outside."  
  
"Wait, Liv. All rental cars look the same. How will I know it's you?"  
  
She gave him a mischievous grin and said, "It's not a rental. You'll know it when you see it."  
  
Steve wondered at that, but just shrugged his shoulders and said, "There's no way I'm coming outside until I see you. If you get tired of waiting, come get me."  
  
"Ok," she agreed, "but I won't have to."  
  
Steve knew she was up to something.  
  
He went to the carrousel and got their suitcases, then stood at the exit doors looking for Olivia.  
  
"I'll be damned!" he breathed.  
  
She had pulled up in that unbearably pink jeep of hers. She'd put the top on, which was a good thing considering the cold. He noticed heads turning and smiles breaking out as he walked over and loaded up the bags. Maybe it wasn't so awful after all.  
  
"I see you spotted me."  
  
"How could I not?" He climbed in, and as she pulled away from the curb, he adjusted the heat to his liking. He sat back with a sigh and basked in the warmth.  
  
After a few moments, he asked her, "How and why the hell did you bring this thing out here?"  
  
"Language, babe."  
  
"Sorry, but please answer my question."  
  
"Well, there's an orderly at the hospital who's always talking about wanting to see the country. I told him I would pay him two weeks wages to drive my car here and park it, and then I would fly him back to LA first class. All he had to do was get it here by today. He parked it for me and called me with the lot and row number. I paid to get it out of the lot. End of story."  
  
"That's only the how, Liv. Now tell me why."  
  
"People will recognize it and know I'm home. That way I don't have to call on everyone in town. Some folks'll come to me."  
  
"Oh, very clever."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Steve watched the road signs as they left the city. It was still dark, and there wasn't much else to see. On route twenty-eight they passed communities with names like Tarentum and Natrona Heights. At a town called Kittanning, he saw a sign pointing east to Indiana. This confused him, so he had to ask about it.  
  
"Uh, Liv, I thought Indiana was that way." He pointed west. "Between Ohio and Illinois."  
  
Olivia chuckled at him. "That's the state. Indiana, Pennsylvania is a university town and the hometown of Jimmy Stewart. IUP's a good school, and my daddy's Aunt Dottie once waited on Jimmy Stewart in her granddad's mercantile when he was home for a visit. Maybe we can visit the Jimmy Stewart Museum before we go back to LA."  
  
"Ok. That sounds like it might be interesting."  
  
They headed north for a little while on state route sixty-six, and at a place called New Bethlehem; he saw a sign for a place with an improbable name. He had time to sound it out as Olivia was driving slowly on snowy roads.  
  
"Punx-su-taw-ney? What in the world?"  
  
"Ever see the movie 'Groundhog Day'?"  
  
"Yeah…Oh! No way. People really live there? I thought it was just for the holiday. Like the North Pole at Christmas."  
  
"Way, babe. It is a real town with good people and a high school. Gobbler's Knob is real, too, and so is the groundhog. My place is in the woods off route 36 in the middle of the triangle formed by Brookville, DuBois, and Punx'y. Casey's Diner is across from the school."  
  
"Is that where you went to school?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
They crossed a bridge and came to a "T" intersection at the end of 536 and Olivia sat at the stop sign for a long while. She had gone ghost-pale. Steve didn't know what to do or say, so he just waited. After a bit, she spoke.  
  
"Mind if we pull over for a bit?"  
  
"It's up to you."  
  
She crossed the road and pulled over. Steve suddenly realized they were at the base of a cliff.  
  
"Liv?"  
  
"I'm ok, Steve." She was holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip and staring out the windshield. Steve could see her arms trembling.  
  
He reached over and put a hand on hers.  
  
"I'm ok, really."  
  
"We don't have to do this now, Liv."  
  
With forced cheerfulness she said, "Nonsense. No time like the present!"  
  
She let go of the steering wheel, threw the door open, leaped out, ran around the front of the jeep and up to the base of the cliff, and put her bare hands against the rocks. Steve could see scars on the stone, and he wondered if she had put them there.  
  
He groaned as he got out of the jeep and the wind cut through him. He would prefer to stay warm inside the vehicle, but there was no way he could let her face this alone. He pulled the hat she had given him at the airport out of his pocket and put it on. He walked up to her and took her hands from the rocks. He held them in his, and put them inside her coat pockets. Then he took his hands out of her pockets and wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"This is where you did it, huh?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
He waited for her to fill the silence. The only sounds were the shrilling of the wind and the chattering of teeth.  
  
"I was driving a Chevy Blazer. Light blue. My…friends…called it 'Big Blue.' Keith had just called off the wedding. I was on my way home from trying to return my dress. The woman at the shop was so rude. She insisted that I couldn't get my money back. I had made a non-refundable deposit. She couldn't understand that I didn't care about the money. I just wanted to get rid of the stupid dress."  
  
Steve could feel her whole body spasm as she struggled to keep from crying.  
  
"You can cry if you want, Liv."  
  
"I *don't* want to cry, Steve. I've spent most of my life crying. I want to stop and start over happy."  
  
He turned her around to face him, and she buried her face in his chest. His coat muffled the rest of her story, but Steve caught it all.  
  
"I'd been…depressed…since the attack, and all of a sudden I got to thinking how much my life had seemed to suck. It seemed that I had spent so much time being miserable and so very little time being happy, and I decided I didn't want to feel that way ever again. I knew I was going way too fast when I hit the bridge, I saw the stop sign, and I saw the rocks, and I saw a solution. I woke up a week later in ICU."  
  
"It's a miracle you didn't succeed."  
  
"That's what everyone said. Actually, they said it was a miracle I wasn't killed. Officially, it was an accident, and most folks didn't know any different. I believe that now, that I was being protected for another purpose, but at the time, it made me feel worthless. Like neither God nor the Devil wanted me. Most folks who were close to me around here know now that it was intentional, but the police report was never amended."  
  
"Sometimes things like that fall by the wayside as we get busy with other cases," Steve told her.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose, and sometimes they're put by the wayside, too."  
  
"Sometimes, when it serves the greater good to do so."  
  
She turned to face the rocks again, and leaned back against him.  
  
"It's been so long since I was that miserable, I don't even remember what it feels like." She sighed deeply. "Thank God."  
  
Steve could only say one thing, "Amen."  
  
They turned to go back to the jeep only to find a county sheriff's cruiser pulling up alongside them. The officer got out and peered at them for a long moment in the gray light of dawn. Olivia waved and called, "Beechie? You're a deputy now?"  
  
"O? Is it really you?" He moved a few steps closer. "Olivia Margaret Regis! God in Heaven! Where ya been?"  
  
"Oh, here and there, Beechie." She walked toward him with her arms stretched out for a hug, and Steve followed a couple of steps behind. The deputy was considerably taller than Olivia, but not quite so tall as Steve. When she got to him, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet in a joyful, growling bear hug.  
  
Setting her down, Beechie told her, "Turn around and let me look at you."  
  
Liv did as instructed, and he said, "You look good, O. What brings you home after all this time?"  
  
"Burying skeletons and exorcising ghosts, I guess. I have to face the past before I can look to the future." She took Steve by the hand and pulled him forward to join the conversation. "Arnold Beech, meet Detective Lieutenant Steve Sloan of the LAPD, homicide division. Steve, Beechie and I went to school together."  
  
As the two shook hands, Beechie said, "Don't let her fool you. She went to school and dragged me along."  
  
"You did the work, Beechie, I just provided the incentive."  
  
"Incentive my eye, O." Looking at Steve he said, "She bribed me, and there's no other word for it."  
  
"Oh? How'd she do that?" Steve asked grinning.  
  
Beechie laughed. "She promised to give me exactly what I wanted."  
  
At Steve's questioning look, Beechie elaborated. "I was a trouble maker, got suspended a couple times a year. I pretty much figured I was going to drop out and work in the coalmines or at the paper mill. One day I noticed she had a 'for sale' sign on her granddad's '57 Chevy, and I asked her how much she wanted. She put me off and put me off, saying, 'I'll let you know when I decide.' One day the car was gone. I went to her and threw a wall- eyed fit, 'You said you'd let me know.' She told me to relax and showed me that she had moved it back into the shed. 'My price,' she said, 'is a high school diploma.' On graduation day, she handed me the keys and the title."  
  
Liv laughed and said, "That car was just a carrot, Beechie. You worked like a mule to earn it." She turned to Steve and said, "He was a seventeen year old freshman, but he managed to graduate in the top twenty. He made such a turnaround, the National Honor Society even got special permission to forgive his early discipline problems and induct him."  
  
Beechie lowered his head, kicked at the gravel, and said softly, "You always could play me like a banjo, O. You knew what I wanted and what I needed and you made sure I got them both." There was a quiet pause, after which Beechie said, "Well, I hate to break this up, but there's a shift change at the cheese packing plant in about twenty minutes. If people see this pink blast from the past here, they'll start rubbernecking and we'll have a wreck."  
  
"They've reopened the plant?"  
  
"As if you didn't know. Speculation's been running wild, O, and I know it's rude to ask, but how much did you sink into that old hulk?"  
  
Olivia's eyes were wide open as she shook her head. "I have no idea, Beechie. In fact, I didn't know I had any money in it. Meyer Goldstein handles all my finances. When did it open?"  
  
Beechie shrugged. "End of August, beginning of September. You really didn't know?"  
  
Steve and Liv exchanged a meaningful glance and Olivia said, "No, I didn't, but I had a lot going on at the time, and Meyer knows I trust him. He probably decided not to bother me with the details at the time and then forgot."  
  
"Kinda hard to forget a couple million dollars, isn't it?" Beechie asked. "That's what the rumors say anyhow."  
  
"It's not hard to forget when you handle as much money and manage as many accounts as Meyer Goldstein, and rumors are invented and perpetuated by people so dull and dimwitted they are bored with their own lives. That is why they have to make everyone else's seem so interesting."  
  
Beechie nodded amiably and said, "At any rate, O, you ought to look into it. See if you really are involved. Now, I hate to do it, but I really have to ask you to move on."  
  
She gave the deputy another hug and a kiss on the check and said, "We were ready to go get some breakfast at Casey's, anyway. It's good to see you Beechie. Come by the house some time. We'll be staying at least two weeks."  
  
"Ok, O, and I'll bring Lou and the kids."  
  
Confusion crossed Olivia's face, then she grabbed Beechie's left hand and said, "A wedding band? Lou?" Realization dawned, "LOUISE! Crandoll? OH MY GOD!!! I knew you two would hook up. How many kids?"  
  
Beechie nodded, "Nine-year-old twins. Arthur and Virginia. Lou and I have already decided. Art gets the Chevy when they graduate, and Ginny gets the Jeep. And they both get all the history that go with them."  
  
"Oh, Beechie, that's super. Do bring the kids by. Say after church for Sunday dinner?"  
  
"I'll check with Lou. Is there a number I can call?"  
  
"I dunno. Meyer was supposed to have the phone hooked up at the house, but I don't know the number. Are you in the book?"  
  
"Yep, under A. & L. Beech."  
  
"Ok. I'll call you then." She blew him a kiss as she and Steve got in the jeep and said, "Have a nice day, and work safely."  
  
Beechie waved and got in his cruiser and they parted ways.  
  
Olivia headed south on route thirty-six toward Punxsutawney. She kept up a steady stream of delighted chatter about how she was so glad for Beechie and Lou and how they'd had a hot and cold running romance all through school. She did not notice at first that Steve was staring darkly out the window, but when she finally stopped her mile-a-minute talking and looked over at him, she knew something was wrong.  
  
"Wow, Steve, that's a thundercloud if ever I saw one," she said reaching out to caress his angry features.  
  
Surprisingly, he jerked away from her.  
  
They were coming up on a steep hill, and she had to downshift, so she drew her hand away, but she didn't let the issue pass.  
  
"Talk to me, babe. What's the matter?"  
  
Steve shrugged.  
  
"Talking requires verbal communication. What's wrong?"  
  
Steve took a deep breath and let it out. "He used to be in love with you," he said sulkily.  
  
"Beechie?" Olivia rolled her eyes. "Get real, Steve. He's happily married with two kids."  
  
"Doesn't matter, Liv, when he hugged you, he was seventeen again, and this time he had the girl of his dreams in his arms."  
  
"Steve," she said in exasperation, "he was a third-year freshman and I was the little genius who started high school at thirteen years old. His daddy was a miner and his mama kept the books at the paper mill. My folks were farmers. We had nothing in common."  
  
"You and I don't have much in common, either," he challenged.  
  
"But we're together now, right?" she asked, with a glint in her eye.  
  
"Right!" he agreed angrily, snapping up the bait before he knew it was on a hook.  
  
"So, a twenty-year-old romance that never was shouldn't trouble you. After all, a strong, handsome, virile, fully (and I do mean fully)," she said with a giggle in her voice, "grown man such as yourself has no reason to be jealous of a horny seventeen-year-old who is no more and couldn't get my attention with a red cape when he was. Right?"  
  
Steve tried his best to stay angry for a minute more, but when she caught his eye and grinned, he couldn't help but laugh at his own foolishness.  
  
"Right," he agreed laughingly, "but who said I was jealous?"  
  
Still, Olivia noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the drive to the diner. 


	33. Welcome to the Family

See the end of this chapter for disclaimers. I don't want to ruin the jokes.  
  
(Chapter 33. February 1. Casey's diner.)  
  
At first sight, Steve was completely taken with Casey's Diner. It was one of those old-fashioned, aluminum-sided, art-deco places from the fifties and still appeared to have the original counter, booths, stools, juke box, and menu. They served typical diner food--hamburgers, French fries, onion rings, and the like; with eggs, sausage, homefries and other good stuff for breakfast any time of the day. Though he got some odd looks from the regulars, the waitress made him feel quite welcome with a steaming cup of coffee on the table before he even settled in his seat.  
  
Sliding a menu to him across the table, she said, "My name's Irene, sugar. We're already shorthanded 'cause the other girl is out sick, and we're about to get real busy with the mines, the paper mill, Woodley's, and the cheese plant all changing shifts at once. You must be here for Groundhog Day, right?"  
  
"Uh, no. Actually I'm with a friend who's from here and came home for a visit. She should be here any minute."  
  
"Oh, all right. Well, anyway, if you need something and I don't get around to you soon enough, just holler my name, 'kay?"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't want to jump ahead of any of your regulars who've been waiting," Steve demurred politely.  
  
Irene made a dismissive sound and said, "Those geezers? Shoot, they're just a bunch of old farmers and storekeepers who don't have enough to do in the winter. They've been here since before the roosters crowed this morning." She raised her voice a few notches and said, "They just like to suck down the free coffee and shoot the breeze. They sure don't know how to tip, and the only reason Casey keeps them around is all that hot air keeps the heating bills down."  
  
Steve just nodded and smiled at the friendly brunette. She was an older lady, in her early sixties, he'd guess, with sparkling green eyes and a mobile mouth. He wasn't sure, but he thought the hair color might have come out of a bottle. She had a way of looking at him that said, "I might not know who you are, but it's good to see you anyway," and from that, Steve knew why Liv had wanted to stop here.  
  
He didn't know why she had parked down the block and sent him ahead.  
  
He looked up to see Irene waiting expectantly.  
  
She smiled and asked, "You want to order, sugar?"  
  
"Huh? Oh…umm…what's good?"  
  
She grinned. "Everything, honey, but the best dish in the house ain't on the menu."  
  
One of the old farmers at Steve's end of the counter hollered, "I think she's talkin' about you, young fella."  
  
Steve could feel a blush warming his face when he heard Olivia call from the kitchen, "She better not be Mr. Hargrove! He's with me." Then to Steve she called, "Two eggs over easy, hot cakes, sausage, homefries, and oj coming up, Steve!"  
  
From his table at the end of the counter, Steve could see jaws drop all along the line and hear the old men muttering, "That's Big john Regis' girl! Livvie's come home. What in the world is she doing here? Who's the fella with her? Maybe he has something to do with the cheese packing plant. Why didn't Jud tell us she was coming back to town? We could have had a nice welcome home ready for her."  
  
They all seemed too stunned to talk aloud until Olivia emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron and carrying a tray laden with breakfast. As she walked the length of the counter, she favored each of the old men with a smile, a nod, and a word.  
  
"Mr. Breth, Mr. Peace. On the way in, I noticed you've both gone over to Christmas trees. Is business good?"  
  
"Well, it's predictable."  
  
"And one bad year usually won't ruin your whole harvest."  
  
Olivia gave them a thoughtful look. "I hadn't considered that."  
  
"Mr. Crandoll, I saw your son-in-law and we chatted for a while. He's looking well. Good morning, Mr. Beech. I'm sure you're both so proud of those grandkids."  
  
Crandoll sat stone-faced, but Steve could hear the warmth in his voice when he said, "Yeah, I had my doubts at first, but Lou got herself a good-un."  
  
Beech said, "She sure did, Louis, but Arnie got the better half of the deal."  
  
Crandoll nodded to acknowledge the compliment to his daughter.  
  
"And, twins no less," Olivia marveled.  
  
"Well, you know, they run in both families, Livvie."  
  
"No kidding?"  
  
"Yup," Beech said, "I had a twin brother who died as a baby."  
  
Crandoll continued, "And Lou's mother was a Hargrove."  
  
"You don't say. I never realized that."  
  
Moving down the counter, she started another conversation. Steve enjoyed watching her work the crowd.  
  
"Mr. Strawcutter, how's business at the lumberyard?"  
  
"Right fine, Livvie. I got me a new partner and we're managing to expand in spite of those big national chains."  
  
Liv raised an eyebrow, "Oh, who's your partner?"  
  
"Me," said the man next to Strawcutter. "Otis here came up with the idea. 'Bout three years ago, after my hardware store burned, I took the insurance money and used it to help him build a hardware store onto the custom cabinet shop at the lumberyard."  
  
"Well, that's wonderful, Mr. Redmond. I'll be sure to stop by while I'm in town."  
  
"Do that. The kids will be glad to see you," Redmond said. "Susie is our bookkeeper, and Cliff, Jr. manages the lumberyard."  
  
"Yeah," Strawcutter cut in, "and in the spring, my Alice is going to start an interior design shop in the back room."  
  
Liv laughed. "Keeping it in the family, huh?"  
  
Redmond grinned. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if Cliff and Alice make us all family before the year's out."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
Strawcutter agreed. "They've been serious for a while. I imagine working in close quarters will speed things up a bit. It'll be interesting."  
  
"I'm sure it will," Liv said with a knowing look.  
  
Working her way to Steve's end of the counter, she said, "Mr. Hargrove, you know Irene will refuse to serve you if you keep picking on her."  
  
"That's right, Kent," Irene agreed, "So just mind your manners."  
  
"Oh, yeah, you old harpy? Just wait until you get snowed in again and see who hauls you and your old man back and forth to this tin can."  
  
Olivia set the plates she was carrying on the table in front of Steve, and sat in the booth across from him. "And Irene, if you don't quit hitting on my boyfriend, Casey's going to send you packing and Steve and I won't help you with the breakfast rush. You know I can wait tables, and Steve's got his own restaurant back in LA, so he can pretty much do whatever you need."  
  
At the word "boyfriend" all the other conversation in the diner stopped. As one man, the crowd at the counter turned to scrutinize Steve anew, and again he felt that familiar, uncomfortable warmth rising from his collar. Olivia reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. She turned sideways in her seat and said, "Everybody, this is Steve. He's a police lieutenant with the homicide division of the Los Angeles PD. I moved out there in August. He's my boss' son. And yes, you heard me say 'boyfriend.' We've been an item since Thanksgiving."  
  
She gave them a cool look and said, "Anybody got a problem with that?"  
  
There was a general murmur of 'no's' and 'of course not's,' after which Olivia smiled brightly and said, "Good. Steve, this is everybody. You'll learn their names later."  
  
When the natural buzz of conversation returned, Irene slid into the booth beside Olivia and said, "What are you trying to do, Livvie? Scare him off?" Patting Steve's hand, she continued, saying, "Don't let them worry you, honey. After Livvie's folks…"  
  
Irene's voice trailed off.  
  
"It's ok, Irene, he knows."  
  
The woman looked singularly relieved, and continued her story.  
  
"Well, anyway, we all kind of adopted her. Any boy she liked had to pass muster with this bunch of dried up old turnips as well as Judson and May Stephens."  
  
"Not to mention Ted, Keith, and Kenney," Olivia added.  
  
Steve's confused look at the mention of more names prompted Olivia to explain, "Jud and May took me in until I petitioned to be emancipated at sixteen. Keith, my…ex…is their son, and Kenney is his younger brother. You know about Ted."  
  
He nodded in understanding.  
  
"Kenney's a deputy, now," Irene said.  
  
"Really? It runs in the family, huh?"  
  
"I guess so. Jud's dad and his uncle and a couple of cousins were police officers. Anyway," Irene changed the subject, looking back to Steve, "with all the people looking out for her, it's no small wonder this poor child didn't get to date until she was in her twenties. For all that, I must say she has excellent taste for one who's never had much practice."  
  
Olivia winked and said, "And pretty good luck, too, huh?"  
  
"He's a hot one, all right," Irene whispered and left a blushing Steve and a wickedly grinning Olivia to finish their breakfast.  
  
As they ate, Olivia filled him in on some of the history she had with the people in the diner. After her family had died and the Stephens had taken her in, she used to ride in to town early with Judson Stephens and have breakfast with him and the other regulars. Every one of the men at the counter had a daughter who was a member of Cloud Nine, and many of them had other children Olivia or her brothers had gone to school with. After school, she'd come back to the diner and hang out until her various clubs, meetings, and practices started. She'd help wait tables when things got busy or she got bored, and in return, Casey and Irene helped her with some of her schoolwork and kept her cup filled with hot chocolate.  
  
"It was a nice place to hang out until I got tired enough to go back to a house that wasn't home," she said distractedly.  
  
Steve was not surprised to find Olivia had been involved in choir at church and school, but he was impressed to know she sang the National Anthem at every home football, basketball, and softball game for four years. He'd heard what a beautiful voice she had, but he knew the National Anthem was notoriously difficult, even for seasoned professionals, let alone a kid. She was also active in Bible Study, Youth Fellowship, and drama (again, no surprise as he remembered the Christmas party at CG). Steve was however, astounded to find that she had also been an athlete and a cheerleader. It wasn't hard to picture her as a cheerleader, but she seemed awfully short for volleyball and just too small for softball.  
  
She grinned, holding her hands about eight inches apart, "My strike zone was about that big," she said impishly, "I was fast, and if they slid into the base and tried to spike me, I'd tag them hard enough to bruise their ribs whether I had the ball or not."  
  
Steve laughed and said, "You were vicious, weren't you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
Mr. Hargrove was eavesdropping, and he chose to interject, "That was nothing compared to her volleyball serve. She was so short it came over the net at an angle that was almost unhittable. My twins, Sophie and Sylvie, played on the varsity team with her, and I used to watch all the games. I once saw this kid win an entire game on serves alone. The other team never hit the ball back."  
  
Olivia smiled pleasantly and said, "How are the girls, sir?"  
  
"Oh, they're fine, Livvie. They're both teachers across the street now. They take turns coaching varsity and JV volleyball."  
  
"Hey, that's great."  
  
Hargrove shook his head and said, "Not this year, it ain't. They're also teaching my grandchildren to drive those God-awful jeeps you got them to buy."  
  
"Oh. Well if it's that bad this year, next year will have to be better."  
  
"I s'pose."  
  
Olivia wrinkled her forehead. "Mr. Hargrove, the girls can't possibly have children old enough to drive yet, can they?"  
  
"Oh, not for another year or so, but Russ' boys…"  
  
"Chuck and Jeff?"  
  
"Yep, they just got their permits."  
  
"My God, are they that old already?"  
  
"Yes, m'dear, they are, and so are you and so am I," the old man said with an affectionate smile as he came to stand beside their table. "Amazing how time flies when you're grown, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, sir, it is, but you always used to warn me it would."  
  
Hargrove rested a huge weathered hand none-too-gently on Steve's shoulder and said, "Now, young fella. Steve, or is it Steven?"  
  
"Steve, unless I'm in trouble," he said with a grin, suddenly aware what a mountain of a man Hargrove was. Years of hard work may have aged him, but he was still a massive six feet four inches, and a lifetime of physical labor had layered his body with solid muscle.  
  
"Well, then…Steven," the man said with some emphasis as the diner went silent. "Have you ever seen one of them old black and white horror movies where the farmers storm the castle with pitchforks and scythes and hack the monster to bits?"  
  
Steve's grin faded. He met the older man's eyes, and replied with a troubled frown, "Yes, sir." He had to swallow a rock in his throat as the tune from "Deliverance" ran through his head.  
  
"All of us old farmers here love this girl," Hargrove said gravely, squeezing Steve's shoulder a little harder than necessary. "Her daddy was one of us, and we have taken it as out solemn duty to protect her. We've let her down a couple of times, so you can understand if we're a mite touchy about how you treat her, can't you, Steven?"  
  
There was that stress on his full name again. Steve nodded, knowing he couldn't force words past the rock. The strains of 'Dueling Banjos' grew louder in his mind.  
  
"Very good, then. Remember, son, if you hurt her you will know how the monster in those movies feels, and you won't be the first in these parts to have that experience. Do you understand?"  
  
Steve had gone pale. He knew a threat when he heard one. The farmer's grip on his shoulder tightened, making him wince. He swallowed hard a couple times as the rock turned to gravel, licked dry lips, and said, "Ye…" He swallowed and tried again, "Yes, sir." Much to his chagrin, he could only manage a whisper.  
  
The old man nodded and said, "Good." He turned and shuffled slowly toward the door.  
  
Steve's hands were shaking so badly he needed both of them to hold his glass as he took a sip of orange juice to clear the dust the gravel had left in his throat. He put the glass down and rubbed his shoulder. Soon he became aware of Olivia's trembling. Instantly he thought to comfort her, but as his eyes met hers to offer assurances he did not feel, she fell sideways on the bench and collapsed in a fit of giggles. The diner roared with laughter, and much to Steve's relief, he knew he'd been had.  
  
He laughed good-naturedly at his own expense as he watched Hargrove strutting the length of the counter getting handshakes and slaps on the back from the other men. Olivia came up gasping for air and wiping tears of laughter from her eyes and said, "He's done that to every guy I've ever brought in here. It's a good test of character to see if you can take a joke. I'd have warned you, but I knew you'd be ok, and they would have been so disappointed if it hadn't worked. It's not very often they get fresh meat up here in the mountains."  
  
"I'll get even for this," Steve promised with a grin, then went to shake Hargrove's hand.  
  
"You really had me going there, sir," Steve told him, extending his hand. "But I meant what I said. I'll be good to her."  
  
Hargrove took his hand and shook it enthusiastically as some of the others gave him friendly pats on the back. "You better be, son. She deserves it. And welcome to the family."  
  
Somehow, Steve got turned around in the warm, friendly crowd that had finally welcomed him, and he caught a glimpse of Olivia, beaming happily at him from the end of the counter. It did feel like family, and he was grateful they had accepted him. She made her way toward him through the crowd. "All right, you goobers," she said with a laugh, "you've had your fun with him. Now pay your bills, tip your waitress…"  
  
"Thank you!" Irene called from the kitchen.  
  
Olivia waved, "…and be on your way so Steve and I can finish our breakfast before the late breakfast crowd arrives." She looked at Steve and said, "Sweetheart, would you mind if we helped with the breakfast rush? Casey says Irene and Judi can barely keep up with it together now days, and Judi's home with the flu. With the holiday, it's going to be a mess in here."  
  
"Sure, I'd be glad to help," Steve agreed, wondering how big a rush such a small town could produce.  
  
She gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "Thank you."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve collapsed into the booth across from Olivia and Irene at about ten thirty with a thunderous groan.  
  
"Where did all of those people come from? This town is not that big!"  
  
Olivia and Irene exchanged looks and laughed. "Size isn't everything, hon," Irene said.  
  
"Steve wouldn't know about that, Irene."  
  
Olivia's jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide in absolute shock at the words that had just slipped from her own mouth. Her hands slowly came up to cover her brilliantly red face as she started to giggle.  
  
"Oooo, Livvie, talk about kiss and tell!" Irene teased.  
  
Olivia continued to giggle, tears of mirth…or perhaps embarrassment…sitting at the corners of her eyes. As Steve caught Irene sizing him up anew, he began to feel a bit uneasy, but took comfort in the fact that Olivia was still blushing enough for both of them. He decided to rub it in.  
  
"Olivia," he said in a shocked tone as he stirred his coffee. "This is a side of you I've never seen before." Suggestively he added, "And I thought by now I'd seen them all."  
  
Liv finally caught her breath, and still blushing furiously, said, "It must be the company, Steve." She shot a look at Irene. "I thought I'd outgrown that kind of humor, but I guess this place is bringing it out of me again."  
  
Steve gave her his most charming smile and said, "Humor? I thought it was a compliment."  
  
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed that Olivia could blush redder, but she did. He watched delightedly as she dissolved in giggles and dropped onto the seat, hiding from his view behind the table.  
  
"Anyway, Steven," Irene said in a warning tone as she came to her younger friend's rescue, "Punxy's the biggest town for twenty miles in any direction, and we're right on the main drag, such as it is. With people crisscrossing the county to get to and from work, we usually get a rush at breakfast and dinner. Breakfast is the worst, though, because we have kids and teachers from the school coming by, too. With tomorrow being Groundhog Day, we've also got a lot of tourists hanging around."  
  
"I see. Well, that explains that, I guess. You certainly seem to do a brisk business."  
  
Olivia finally sat up and rejoined the conversation. "If you think this morning was busy, you should see this place after the football and basketball games."  
  
Irene turned to Olivia and said, "There's a game tonight. I'm sure if we called Mr. Jenkins, he'd be glad to have you sing."  
  
Olivia shook her head adamantly, "Oh, no, Irene. It has been years since I sang in front of a big crowd."  
  
"That's ok, honey, it's been years since we've heard you sing. Hey, Casey! Call the school and tell Mr. Jenkins Livvie's back in town and wants to sing before the game tonight."  
  
"Casey, no!" Olivia shouted down Irene's suggestion, "I'm not ready to do that."  
  
Irene shook a finger at Liv and said, "I'll get you over there yet."  
  
"Yeah," Olivia agreed. "You keep badgering me and you probably will. Right now, just let us help you get ready for lunch."  
  
"Sure thing, I'd appreciate the help."  
  
As the ladies talked, Irene noticed Olivia shooting Steve narrow-eyed glances, but she hadn't noticed that Steve was growing pale. As the three rose to go back to work preparing for the lunch crowd, she heard Steve suck air through his teeth and saw him drop back to the seat.  
  
"Uh, Liv, I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be," he said through clenched teeth.  
  
"I was expecting that. Leg acting up, is it?"  
  
He nodded tensely as he arched back in his seat and tried to stretch his leg as much as the tight space under the table would allow.  
  
"I saw you limping when we got off the plane this morning and while you were waiting tables during breakfast. I was hoping you'd have the sense to take something on your own. If it's any consolation, you must be getting stronger. I'm surprised how long you were able to go before it cramped up on you."  
  
Steve was panting in pain as he said, "You can lecture me all you want later, Liv. Right now I need something fast."  
  
"I've got some Advil in my locker, honey."  
  
Steve moaned and shook his head no. "Thanks, Irene, but that won't do it."  
  
"Would have if you had taken some this morning," Olivia said acidly. Then turning to a very worried Irene, she said, "My purse is on the floor beside your locker, Irene. Would you please bring it, and a glass of water?"  
  
As Irene left to get the requested items, Olivia moved to the other side of the booth. She helped Steve turn so his long legs stretched across the seat, and she massaged his cramping muscles. Her warm, strong hands felt good, and as always, he was amazed at what strength those delicate hands possessed. Something was missing, though.  
  
"Why are you mad at me, Liv?"  
  
"What makes you think I'm mad?"  
  
"You're not talking to me," he said with strained patience. He jumped as a particularly powerful spasm sent knives of pain slicing along his nerves. After catching his breath, he continued. "Usually you talk and try to comfort me when I'm hurting. That helps at least as much as the massage."  
  
She sighed and continued to massage his calf. After a moment, she told him, "You should have taken some Advil this morning."  
  
He nodded. "If you saw me limping, why didn't you say anything?"  
  
She pressed her lips together and said in exasperation, "Because if it happened on the job, I wouldn't be there to tell you what to do about it. You have to learn to listen to your body."  
  
Irene came back and set Olivia's purse and the water on the table. Steve hunted for his medication while Olivia continued to massage his leg. Sensing that she was intruding, Irene retreated to the kitchen.  
  
"You need to recognize the warning signs your body sends you and act before something like this happens."  
  
Steve winced as she bent and flexed his knee and ankle. "That's not what's bothering you, though, is it?"  
  
She worked her way up and down his calf and thigh and said, "If you had taken a couple Advil when you got off the plane this morning you'd have been fine, but you had to be tough."  
  
Steve put a Darvocet in his mouth and washed it down with some water, then said, "It didn't hurt that much, Liv."  
  
She spat her next words at him. "Two Advil, Steve. Stop being tough and start being smart. What if this had happened while you were chasing some suspect?"  
  
"Then I guess I would have had a problem," he said sarcastically. He was tired of being lectured.  
  
"Dammit, Steve! You sure as hell would have," she agreed angrily.  
  
As if the tears hovering at the corners of her eyes weren't enough, the uncharacteristic use of profanity told him just how upset she was. "Liv," he said soothingly, "calm down." He reached for her hands, but she stood up and moved away from him.  
  
"I will not calm down!" she snapped. "I hate to see you hurting. It hurts me. I love you and I need to know that you will take care of yourself. I can handle the risks that go with your job, but not if you're going to amplify them with self-neglect."  
  
Steve opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but she turned her back on him. She went to the far end of the diner and started collecting napkin holders and salt- and peppershakers to refill before the lunch crowd arrived. Steve sat in the booth and sulked, knowing he couldn't follow her until the medication kicked in. After a while, Irene came over to freshen his coffee. She poured herself a cup and sat down across from him.  
  
"Quite a firecracker, isn't she?"  
  
"I've never seen her so angry," Steve said, dejectedly.  
  
"That's only because she cares so much," Irene assured him. "She only cusses at the people she really loves." She picked up the bottle of Steve's medication and read the label. "Darvocet? That's some pretty powerful stuff, isn't it?"  
  
"I haven't used it in weeks," Steve said defensively.  
  
"Oh, I wasn't judging you, hon," Irene said. "Actually, I was just wondering. What happened?"  
  
Steve was quiet a moment.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm prying. It's a bad habit." She got up to leave.  
  
"Wait, Irene," Steve said, "It's ok."  
  
He stirred his coffee for a moment as he framed his thoughts.  
  
"I got shot up on the job back in August. I just got back to work the first of this year."  
  
Irene whistled softly.  
  
Steve nodded, "Yeah, that about covers it. I still have some lingering problems, but Liv has promised me if I do what I'm supposed to they won't interfere with my life or my job."  
  
"And you're supposed to take something as soon as you feel pain, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why didn't you?"  
  
Steve rubbed both hands over his face and said, "I played football in high school, used to ride dirt bikes, and served two tours of duty in Viet Nam. Since I became a cop, I've been beat up more times than I can count. I've been shot, knifed, blown up, and run down. A while back, I rolled a car in a high-speed chase, tore up my knee, and was deliberately infected with staphylococcus bacteria while I was recovering in the hospital. Just after I met Liv, I was shot seven times and fell from an iron stairwell to a concrete floor. The fall broke my collarbone and some ribs, and gave me a concussion. The bullets shattered my pelvis, my left thigh, and blew away so much of my right leg, Liv had to use a special device to stretch it as it healed so it would be the same length as the left. Sometimes I get stiff in the mornings, and my right leg aches and cramps up. Other than that I'm good as gold."  
  
Irene just shook her head at the litany of injuries Steve recited.  
  
Steve shrugged his shoulders and gave a slightly bitter laugh. "Anyway, after your body takes so much abuse, you kind of get used to living with low-level pain. If you can walk it off, sleep it off, or work it out, you just ignore it."  
  
Irene nodded, and jerked her head in Olivia's direction. "You need to explain that to her, kiddo."  
  
"I doubt she'll listen."  
  
"Make her hear you."  
  
Irene filled his coffee cup one more time then left him alone with his thoughts.  
  
He sat rubbing and stretching his sore leg as he watched Olivia fill the napkin holders, salt- and peppershakers, and ketchup and mustard bottles at the counter and every table except his. She wiped down the counter, the tables, the seats, and the menus, but carefully avoided him. Then she fixed herself a cup of tea and sat at the counter, turning slightly on the stool to keep her back to him.  
  
Finally, he felt a blessed relief as the Darvocet kicked in. When he went to her, he didn't want to be limping. He wanted her to see him whole and healthy. He waited a few more minutes for the medication to take full effect.  
  
"Liv," he called quietly.  
  
He saw her shoulders rise and fall with a sigh before she turned around to face him. He could still see anger lingering in her eyes and the set of her jaw. Sliding out of the booth, he walked toward her. He put a confidence in his stride that he did not feel. He could tell from her face that she was not fooled. Damn if she couldn't read him like a cheap supermarket tabloid! Well, he was going to follow through anyway.  
  
She sat staring at him impassively for a few moments as he searched for words. Out of patience, she slipped from the stool and stepped around him to go to the table he had just vacated. He took her arm and pulled her close to him.  
  
She froze. "Let me go."  
  
"Hear me out?"  
  
She nodded, and he let her go. She slid back up on the stool and fixed him with a hard stare. "Talk to me."  
  
He put his hands on her shoulders, ran them down her arms, and held her hands. They were ice cold.  
  
"Liv, I…" What could he say? He understood why she was mad, but until she told him, he hadn't even realized that how he dealt with his pain affected her. What's more, he hadn't recognized the stiffness when he got off the plane as a signal of something worse to come. By the time they got busy at breakfast, he was hurting, but not bad enough to justify ducking out on Liv and Irene.  
  
"Steve, I'm not going to wait forever. If you have something to say, say it. If not, let me finish refilling the tables."  
  
He looked down for a moment, and then he looked in her eyes. He saw pain there, and sadness, too.  
  
Nodding toward their booth, he said, "Let's sit."  
  
She followed him, and sat across from him.  
  
He took her hand and said, "I need you to try to understand me. I'm not sure how to explain this so it will make sense to you, but I've got to try."  
  
She said nothing.  
  
He stared at the ceiling a moment to organize his thoughts, and then plunged ahead. "This is new to me, Liv. I've had aches and pains since I was fifteen and started playing high school football. I'm not being tough or hardheaded; I'm just being me." He gave her a lopsided grin, "If I took something every time I hurt, I'd have spent the past thirty years on drugs."  
  
She still didn't respond.  
  
"Liv, I need you to be patient with me, and I need you to help me. I'm just beginning to realize I'm not the same person I was before this happened to me. I've gotten so used to…ignoring…a certain level of discomfort. I've developed a high tolerance for pain, so I don't necessarily recognize warning signs when they hit me."  
  
He looked down at the table and doodled on the surface with a fingertip for a minute.  
  
"This has…changed me. I need you to teach me to…deal with it. I don't want you to worry about me, but you need to understand that I'm not used to…limitations. I'm sorry if you're still mad, but you have to believe that I really am trying to take care of myself. I just can't tell the difference between normal aches and pains and…trouble."  
  
He looked up at her just in time to see a tear drip from her face to the tabletop.  
  
"Liv, don't cry."  
  
"Oh, Steve, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself." She looked down, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "I promised you you'd recover, but you're still suffering. Every time I see you hurting, I remember that I let you down. I made you a promise I couldn't keep. I'm so, so sorry. I should have done more."  
  
"What could you have done, Liv?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"Look at me, honey." When she didn't look up, he took her by the chin and gently forced her to meet his gaze. When he could look her in the eye, he said, "If it weren't for you, I would have been crippled for life. You did everything you could, and I know that. I'll be forever grateful to you, because you gave me my life back.  
  
"You didn't promise me that everything would be the way it was before I got shot. You promised me that if I did what I was told, I would be all right. Well, I am all right. I just need to learn to recognize my limits, and I need your help with that. What do you say?"  
  
She looked at him and gave a teary smile.  
  
"Do you forgive me?"  
  
"Liv, there's nothing to forgive. You did more for me than anyone could have imagined. By all rights, I should be in a wheelchair now; but I'm not, thanks to you. Will you continue to help me?"  
  
She dried her tears, gave him a genuine smile that lit up her eyes, and nodded. "Of course I will. I need to keep you limber so you can keep up with me."  
  
"Sweetheart, I don't think anyone could ever keep up with you." He laughed, leaned across the table, and kissed her.  
  
Suddenly, the affectionate little peck that they had intended became electric. Steve tasted her with his tongue, and she parted her lips to let him explore. She rubbed the back of his hand so softly it sent fire and chills chasing each other along his nerves to his brain and his groin.  
  
Steve caught his breath enough to whisper, "Are we going to your place, or will we have to find a hotel?"  
  
The sound of someone very nearby clearing his throat cut off her answer. Olivia jumped, screamed, and giggled. Steve blushed and cursed to himself. To their credit, the two deputies standing beside the table didn't laugh.  
  
When Olivia stopped giggling, she introduced them to Steve.  
  
"Steve, you already met Arnold Beech, and this is Kenny Stephens." She smiled and said, "Kenney, you look good. How are things going?"  
  
Kenny was not cordial.  
  
"This isn't a social call, O."  
  
Olivia stiffened and asked, "You're not here to harass me on account of your brother, are you? Remember, he dumped me."  
  
"Of course not, O. I love you like a sister. I'm not happy that you let him drive you off, but if he was too angry to know what a gem he had, I can't blame you. Of course I would hope you'd have more respect for him than to be caught necking like a teenager in the biggest window on main street. Five more minutes and I could have charged you both with public lewdness."  
  
"Well, then, what brings you here?" she asked frostily.  
  
Beechie answered. "It's bad news, O. I asked Kenney to come with me when I told you. I thought maybe having him here would make it easier to take. Maybe I was wrong." He shot the younger deputy a disapproving glare.  
  
At least Kenney had the grace to be contrite. "I'm sorry, O, I've just…never seen you with anyone but Keith."  
  
"Never mind that." Worry and confusion were still written on her face. "What the matter, Beechie?"  
  
Beechie took a deep breath and said, "Ted's out again. We just got word a little while ago."  
  
"O," Kenney said, "I think you should go back to California. It's just not safe for you here right now."  
  
Steve watched as Olivia took a deep breath, pressed her hands flat on the table, looked at her friends, and said, "I was halfway expecting this. It just felt like it was time. I'm through running. I came back here to confront my past before I start a new future with Steve."  
  
Steve noticed that Kenny tried hard to conceal his reaction, but he was clearly disturbed to find another man had taken his brother's place in Olivia's affections.  
  
"If he's loose, it's because he's meant to be. If I went back to LA, he'd eventually find me there. No place is safe for me as long as he's alive, but I'm not afraid of him any more."  
  
"He's a crazy son of a gun, O," Beechie reminded her.  
  
"Schizophrenic love-obsessed stalkers usually are, Beechie."  
  
The deputy gave her an aggravated look. "If you insist on staying, at least stay in town instead of going out to that drafty old house of yours."  
  
She looked at Steve. "I want to stay. And I want to stay at my house. I have a rifle and a shotgun there, and I brought my .38 with me from LA…legally transported, of course. I have a carry permit in LA, and Pennsylvania is a 'shall issue' state. The sheriff knows me. I should be able to get a non-resident carry permit with no trouble. As a police officer, you won't need a permit. We can get you a weapon by Saturday."  
  
She looked at Kenney and said, "It is just the federal five-day wait for a new purchase, right?"  
  
Kenney nodded.  
  
She looked back at Steve. "He's come after me three times. I will not run again, I will not hide, and I will not live in fear. I will not stop living my life because of him ever again. This is a small community, and he'll know we're here soon enough. He'll be coming after you, too, because you're with me. You can go home if you want and come back when he's in jail again, but I'm staying right here until all of my ghosts are put to rest."  
  
"Do you understand what you're saying, Liv?" Steve asked her carefully.  
  
"I am saying that I am alive again, it feels good, and I'm not going to give it up just because some madman wants a piece of me. I'm not looking for trouble, Steve, but I'm not going to hide from it any more."  
  
Steve thought for a moment. He studied her carefully. She was eerily calm. Her mind was made up, and she had complete faith that everything was going to be ok.  
  
"How'd you get your LA permit, Liv?"  
  
"Well, you know how hard it is for the average citizen to get a concealed carry permit in LA."  
  
"That's why I asked."  
  
She shrugged. "I know someone who knows someone. He verified that I had 'good cause' and got the issuing officer to expedite the process. I took the safety and use of force courses, paid the fee, and got my permit. It was all legal and above-board, my friend just made it a little easier."  
  
Steve nodded thoughtfully and asked, "Was the friend my father?"  
  
"No. Don't ask who it was. I won't tell you."  
  
He nodded again and looked at the deputies, not sure what he wanted to ask. Kenney told him what he needed to know anyway. "She's a good shot and level-headed. She won't freak out in a crisis," he smiled affectionately at Liv, "but she might fall apart afterward. I'd trust her to watch my back any day."  
  
Steve looked Liv in the eye and said, "It's a hard thing to shoot a man."  
  
"I know. I've done it twice before and it sucked." She didn't flinch or look away, but she didn't seem proud of it either. She was just giving him the facts. "I don't want revenge, and I don't want to kill Ted, but if it's him or me…well..."  
  
Steve took a deep breath, puffed his cheeks, and let the air out. He nodded and said, "I'm staying. Let's go see the sheriff."  
  
Olivia looked at the tabletop a moment. Then she looked up at Steve and said, "Thank you."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve had been surprised to learn that Olivia was licensed to carry a handgun in LA. He knew she was serious about protecting herself, and he knew she was stronger on the inside than anyone he had ever known. But at the sheriff's office, he saw a completely new side of her personality. She knew she was a force to be reckoned with, and she wasn't ashamed to throw her weight around to get what she wanted. At first, Steve wasn't comfortable with what he saw, but soon he realized that she could have used her influence more often and more selfishly than she did. He was glad to see that she saved her big guns for the big problems.  
  
"Dangit, Rick, I know it's unusual, but these are special circumstances. You know me. You can do the background check by the end of business today, and, thanks to my acquaintance with Ted and Keith, half your own deputies can provide character references."  
  
"I know that, Livvie, but you don't need to carry."  
  
"But I have the right to, and I want to, for self-defense."  
  
"Look, Livvie, there's also a little issue about mental stability that I have to consider. You have a history of…well…"  
  
"Breaking down. I know. But the law only prohibits you from issuing a permit if I have been confined to a mental facility. I never have, and I am stable now. I haven't come unglued since Keith cancelled the wedding, and when I have fallen apart, I have never, ever, been a danger to anyone but myself. Issuing this permit is entirely at your discretion. I have held a concealed carry permit since I was twenty-one. Except for Chicago, where they don't have a concealed carry permit, every place I have lived has seen fit to grant me one, even California, which is one of the most restrictive states in the nation that still issues permits. Except for hunting, I have fired exactly four rounds outside of the practice range, all of them in self-defense, all non-lethal, and all at Ted when he was after me."  
  
"The first one was at his head, Livvie."  
  
"You wrote the report yourself, Rick. Would you have done any differently? I'm not going to start shooting at every squeak and bump in the night."  
  
The sheriff raked a hand over his bald scalp and said, "Livvie, go home. Come back when he's in jail again."  
  
She hopped up on the counter, crossed her legs, folded her arms, and said, "I am home, Rick, and I have a right to visit my friends, and I have a right to defend myself, if necessary. I intend to exercise both of those rights. I want a permit to carry."  
  
The sheriff took hold of Olivia's wrist and tried to coax her off the counter. She grabbed his thumb and gave it a twist, and Steve watched in amazement as the big man sank to his knees in pain.  
  
"Now, Rick," she lectured calmly, still holding his thumb, "I used to help Ted and Keith study for their exams when we were in college. This is a public building, during normal business hours, and while my behavior may be unorthodox, it is hardly illegal. You are a law-enforcement official who just put his hands on me in order to make me comply with a request…a request mind you, not an order, because you can not order me to leave a public place during normal business hours as long as I am not endangering anyone or interfering with the regular routines of this office. If I recollect correctly, and I'm sure I do, that amounts to false arrest."  
  
"And what you are doing is assault on a police officer," the man gasped.  
  
"The way I see it, it's self-defense, especially if I prove false arrest, which I have no doubt I can do. When I prove that I could have used my medical knowledge to destroy the use of your opposable thumbs thus dropping you one rung below the great apes on the evolutionary ladder, but used only the force necessary to contain the perceived threat instead, I expect I'll win any assault case you might bring. Shall we find out? Who do you think can hire a better lawyer, me, or the county? Keep in mind that the county will be defending a sheriff who could have avoided the whole problem with a signature on a piece of paper."  
  
"I could say I was putting you into protective custody."  
  
"How would you justify that to a judge when you just finished telling me I didn't 'need' to carry a weapon for protection?"  
  
Steve watched in fascination as a muscle in the sheriff's jaw twitched.  
  
"All right," he conceded. "I'll have Kenney and Beechie fill out the character references." Olivia smiled and turned him loose. "But I want to talk with the shrinks you've seen since you moved out of town. If something happens and I have to explain myself, I want to be able to verify that I looked into your state of mind and mental stability before issuing the permit."  
  
Olivia took a pad and pen that were on the counter and wrote down some names and phone numbers.  
  
"Have them fax you the release of information forms. Now, about Steve," she said as she slid the pad to the sheriff.  
  
Steve could see a rebellious look in the man's eye for only a moment before it disappeared with a sigh as he recognized that he was already beaten. He ran a hand over his shiny pate again and turned to Steve.  
  
"We can avoid the waiting period if I issue you a weapon, but I can't do that unless I deputize you. There is a provision in the county statutes allowing me to do that in…special circumstances." Shooting a glance at Liv, he said, "I suppose these circumstances are special enough. It even allows for a nominal salary. I'll need approval from your supervisor."  
  
Steve took the pad from the sheriff, wrote down Captain Newman's name and number, and handed it back.  
  
"Satisfied?" the sheriff asked.  
  
"Eminently," Liv beamed.  
  
The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, and Steve sympathized. He recognized the signs of a tension headache too well. "I have found that if you follow in her wake instead of trying to swim across it, your head won't hurt as much, sir."  
  
The sheriff gave him a tired smile and said, "You'd think I would have learned that years ago, and call me Rick, detective."  
  
The two men shook hands, "Call me Steve."  
  
"You always were your mama's slow child," Olivia said, giving the sheriff a peck on the cheek. "We'll wait in the break room, thanks," and she led Steve through the building to a small lounge with a few snack and drink machines, a TV, and some comfortable chairs. Steve had the definite impression that Olivia had spent almost as much time here as she had at the diner.  
  
It took some time, but as it turned out, the sheriff didn't need to deputize Steve. Instead, Captain Newman got permission to lend him to the county sheriff exclusively for Olivia's twenty-four-hour protection. The sheriff would issue Steve a gun, the county would pay the LAPD, and the LAPD would pay Steve's salary.  
  
The sheriff led Steve back the hall to the gun cage and introduced him to a deputy in a wheelchair.  
  
"Steve Sloan, this is Keith Stephens, you met his brother Kenney at the diner." The men shook hands as the sheriff said, "Keith and Livvie go way back."  
  
"So I've heard," Steve said amiably, as he noted the other man's grip tightening uncomfortably. Steve squeezed back a little harder and narrowed his eyes. After holding Stephens's gaze for a moment, he sent the sheriff a look that should have killed him.  
  
The two men sized each other up in silence. Each obviously knew what the other meant to Olivia. Steve saw the man he could have become had Olivia not been there when he was shot. Stephens was an angry man. His left leg was gone at mid thigh, and the right was missing from the knee down. His hips were slim, his upper body, massive. He had dark brown eyes and wore his black hair so short it was almost a crew cut. He had a receding hairline. His face would have been pleasant enough if it weren't wearing an angry scowl. In spite of his unmasked hatred, Steve could see something in him that would appeal to a woman like Liv. There was a dignity and integrity in the man no amount of rage or hate could hide.  
  
Keith saw the man he should have been, tall, strong, lean, and whole, a man who could keep up with O's frenetic pace and give her everything she deserved. Sloan was handsome and athletic, with a muscular frame, a great tan, wavy brown hair, and sparkling blue eyes. He wore faded jeans that fit tight, faintly showing the definition in his thighs and a black, suede jacket that was clearly well filled out. Keith hated him instantly, but he could see how O would fall for him. He could tell Sloan was friendly enough and compassionate, and for all of his Hollywood good looks, the guy was unmistakably decent and probably tough as hell.  
  
Stephens snorted derisively, saying, "My brother said she was tooling around town with some beach bum. So, you're it. She could have done a lot better for herself."  
  
Steve refused to be baited. He loosened his grip on the handshake, feeling his fingers tingle, and said with a forced grin, "I agree, but she insists that she likes me. I guess she must if she brought me home to meet her friends."  
  
Stephens looked him over a moment longer, then released his hand and said in a defeated tone, "Choose your weapon and bring it to me so we can fill out the paperwork."  
  
The selection was slim, but Steve put it down to a tight budget. He chose something that suited him while Stephens and the sheriff talked hunting and sports. Then he took care of the paperwork as quickly as possible and left the gun cage with the sheriff as an escort.  
  
As soon as the were out of earshot, Steve said, "That was dirty, sheriff."  
  
"You'll live."  
  
Steve stopped and looked the other man in the eye. "Why did you do it, to be inhospitable to me or cruel to him?"  
  
Instead of answering, the sheriff reached behind Steve, opened a door, and shoved him roughly into a tiny windowless room apparently meant for interviews. Steve could almost hear the music from 'Deliverance' again.  
  
"Sit down, beach bum."  
  
"I'd prefer to stand."  
  
"Suit yourself. Just understand this. When Livvie's brother Benny went off to Viet Nam, I promised to take care of her. She has done a lot for this department. Since she came into her money, none of my people have ever had to pay medical expenses of any kind regardless of whether they were injured on or off duty. She…or rather one of her foundations…covers what insurance and workman's comp won't, not just for my people, but for their wives and kids, too. When we needed equipment that the county couldn't afford, she loaned us the money. We have had two deputies and three state troopers killed in the line of duty in this county since she got rich. She made sure their mortgages were paid and their kids were educated."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And you just need to be aware, if you hurt her, every cop in this county will have a bullet with your name on it always chambered in his weapon. At the slightest provocation, one of them will fire."  
  
There it was, 'Dueling Banjos'. Though he knew he was being threatened, he wasn't scared. This time, he was mad. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, then twenty. The sheriff was Liv's friend; Steve didn't want to make him his enemy.  
  
Steve forced himself to speak softly when he really wanted to beat the man with a big stick.  
  
"Sheriff, I think we're on the same page, here. A while back, I was badly hurt on the job. Liv, more than anyone, put me back together, body, mind, and soul. Like everyone I've met since I've been here, I, too, would tear apart anyone who tried to hurt her. Now, I still want to know, what did you hope to accomplish by having Keith Stephens and me cross paths like that? Which one of us were you trying to mess with?"  
  
The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "Neither of you. I don't give a hairy rat's behind how you and Stephens feel about each other. I introduced you to spare Livvie." To Steve's surprise, the man actually blushed faintly. "I've always been fond of that kid. Now that you and Keith have met for the first time, she doesn't have to go through that particular minefield. And if you like, you can still call me Rick."  
  
Steve counted ten. It seemed some of Olivia's eccentricities were really just part of the local flavor. The sheriff's colorful language evoked an image so ridiculous, Steve almost laughed, and in one sentence, his tone had switched from animosity to friendliness. Steve peered at the man intently to be sure he was sincere. He saw no guile in the other's face, so he gave in.  
  
"Ok, Rick, and you can still call me Steve."  
  
Steve and Olivia left the sheriff's office in time for a late supper at the diner. After eating, they finally went to Olivia's house. Steve was as impressed with the place as he was exhausted, and he was glad when Olivia suggested that the grand tour wait for tomorrow.  
  
He was delighted to curl up in her big old-fashioned four-poster under a soft electric blanket and an antique quilt and close the heavy velvet curtains around the bed. When Olivia lay down beside him and sighed contentedly, he knew he never wanted anything more than to be with her, and could hardly contain his impatience at waiting for her to work out all the issues of her past. He fell asleep with her head on his chest, her fingers drumming the rhythm of his heartbeat against his ribs, and her lovely voice humming an old love song.  
  
  
  
Disclaimers:  
  
The author has family and friends in Punxsutawney, but, except for Aunt Dottie in the previous chapter, any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidence. Even the author sometimes hears the strains of Dueling Banjos when she visits the kinfolk in Punx'y and surrounding areas, but she still apologizes to anyone who might be offended. They are truly good people, kind and generous to a fault, with an unwavering sense of right and wrong, and a patient acceptance of those who do not fit their mold. All references to __Deliverance__ are meant to be a tongue-in-cheek joke told with infinite affection. 


	34. House and Home

(Chapter 34. February 2. Various places in Pennsylvania.)  
  
Steve woke and stretched, and all of his nerves screamed in pain. For a moment, he couldn't breathe and he thought he was going to be sick. His muscles were so stiff and sore he thought he had been beaten, but he couldn't recall when, where, why, or by whom. It was dark, and he had the sense of being in an enclosed space, but he couldn't remember where he was. Finally, he was able to draw breath, and the mingled scents of lavender, wood smoke, and a pleasant mustiness reminded him that he was in Olivia's house in Pennsylvania. Thus reassured, he began to take stock of his situation.  
  
Where was Olivia?  
  
He started to sit up, but the intense pain of unbelievably sore muscles kept him down. He moaned, and called out, "Liv?"  
  
The canopy drapes parted, and he saw an elegant bedroom furnished in Victorian style. Everything was bathed in golden light from the fireplace. Olivia sat on the bed beside him and brushed the hair from his face.  
  
"What is it, babe?"  
  
"I hurt…everywhere." A weird thread of panic began to tickle in his chest, and he struggled to keep it from his voice. "Why do I hurt so bad, Liv?"  
  
"Easy, babe. It's ok," she said in a singsong voice that proved he had not been entirely successful in hiding his fears. "I kind of expected this." She continued stroking his forehead. "I think it's just the stress of the flight, the cold that you're not used to, waiting tables, and all that mess at the sheriff's office yesterday. You were busier and under more stress than you have been for a while."  
  
"I think need a Darvocet, Liv. I haven't hurt this bad since physical therapy."  
  
"I want to try something else, first, sweetie. If it doesn't work, I'll give you some Advil, but I'd rather you not take a narcotic if we can avoid it, ok? With the cold weather and Ted being loose, you might have quite a few stressful days while we're here, and you don't want the oxycodone to dull your wits."  
  
"Whatever. It doesn't hurt so bad if I stay still."  
  
"Ok," she smiled, "You just relax a little while. I'm going to turn up the electric blanket, warm up the room, fix you some breakfast, and give you a massage."  
  
Steve closed his eyes. "Ok, but you don't have to do this, you know."  
  
"I know. I want to."  
  
She tucked the electric blanket under his chin and turned the dial to high, then pulled the quilt all the way over it to hold in the heat. She tied back the curtains on the bed, and stoked the fire in the fireplace. Steve was admiring the silhouette through her nightgown when a thought occurred to him.  
  
"Liv, you've got to be freezing."  
  
She giggled and said, "Not really. As long as I'm wearing my slippers, I'm ok."  
  
"Crazy mountain people," Steve muttered mostly to himself. "Don't even have sense enough to keep warm."  
  
"Actually, we do have sense enough, but we woodland types also have hardier constitutions and a greater tolerance for extremes than you delicate creatures of the sun, surf, and sand." She shot him a naughty look and he rolled his eyes.  
  
She giggled and said, "I'll be back with your breakfast in a few minutes."  
  
For a while, Steve was content to doze under the warm electric blanket. He was amazed at his luck in finding a girl like Liv. 'No,' he corrected, 'she's a woman. She may be childlike and mischievous, but she's no girl. She's one hell of a woman.'  
  
While he waited for his breakfast, he surveyed the room. It was vast, and richly furnished with all walnut furniture; but it was not over-full. The four-poster bed with its ample curtains would have filled his bedroom at home. There were matching bedside tables, each holding the odd assortment of knick-knacks and a tiffany-style lamp, and in the near corner was a chaise with a small table holding a dried flower arrangement. The fireplace was a large marble affair flanked by two wing chairs with a low table between them. When he saw the bear rug on the floor in front of the fireplace, Steve had to grin. It was the only thing that did not belong, and it was a testament to Liv's quirky personality. She probably kept it because it was "cool."  
  
At the foot of the bed sat a small chair, and against the opposite wall was a tall armoire. A marble-topped washstand with an ornate porcelain basin and pitcher sat in the corner nearest the foot of the bed, and a marble topped dresser sat against the wall to his right. In the far corner was a vanity strewn with an assortment of odds-and-ends, including a silver grooming set and an ornately carved jewelry box. The four windows and two sets of French doors were covered with sheer lace curtains behind green, gold, and burgundy floral drapes. There were candles on the mantle, the tables, the vanity, the dresser, and the washstand. In his mind's eye, he could see what a romantic atmosphere he could create some evening during this visit.  
  
The chaise, the vanity chair, and the chair at the foot of the bed repeated the pattern of the drapes, as did the rug covering most of the hardwood floor. The chairs by the fireplace were covered in burgundy velvet. The walls were paneled up to the chair rail with an attractive floral wallpaper the rest of the way up. Crown molding covered the seam between wall and ceiling, and its pattern was echoed in the base from which the chandelier hung.  
  
As he thought about it, Steve suddenly realized how huge the house must be. Last night, he'd seen at least half a dozen other doors on the hall, and he counted five doors in this bedroom. He wondered what was down stairs. In spite of what Kenney had said yesterday, the house didn't seem to be all that drafty, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was a bad place to be if some lunatic was stalking them. It was just too big and had too many places to hide. He'd have to discuss matters with Olivia soon, but he knew he would not rest easy in this house as long as Ted was loose.  
  
Steve turned his head and looked at the nightstand, reassured to see that the county-issued .38 caliber revolver was still there. It wasn't his own 9 mm, but it would do. Suddenly his stomach growled audibly as the smell of breakfast drifted into the room.  
  
He thought to go downstairs and save Olivia a trip, but when he tried to get up, his lower back and legs screamed at him again. The pain wasn't as mind-blowing as before, but it still made his breath catch in his chest. Olivia came in as he was easing himself back down to the mattress.  
  
"Hey, I told you to relax. If you don't listen to me, I will make you wish you had."  
  
"I already do," he grunted.  
  
"Serves you right. Let me help."  
  
She put the tray on the dresser for a moment, and arranged a mountain of pillows against the headboard.  
  
"Brace yourself."  
  
He gritted his teeth and nodded. She slipped an arm under his shoulders and slowly lifted. He marveled again at her strength, as he wasn't being much help. She helped him sit upright and settle against the pillows. It was good that he was still in bed; he felt a bit shaky from the pain.  
  
Then she sat the tray across his lap, "Huevos rancheros, toast, and oj." With a wicked grin she added, "I was kind of hungry, too, so I made enough for both of us. There was only room for one plate on the tray, though. I figured we could split it."  
  
For a moment her humor was lost on him, then he remembered that first morning. He couldn't fend off the blush he felt heating his cheeks, but he gamely used his knife to split the eggs down the middle and asked, "Which half do you want?"  
  
They ate in silence for some time before Steve realized his gaze was resting on Olivia's little .38 snub-nosed revolver in its holster hanging from the chair at the vanity. A look must have crossed his face, because Olivia said, "Go ahead, ask."  
  
He sighed in frustration. "You're worse than my dad, you know? I didn't even realize yet that I had anything to ask."  
  
"But you do, so ask it."  
  
"Well, you're pretty good at self-defense, Liv. You had me cold that first day, decked me twice at your house before Christmas, and handled the sheriff easily yesterday."  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"So why do you need to carry a gun?"  
  
She thought a moment before answering. "Because Ted will, if he gets the chance. Even if he doesn't, I'm five-three and weigh less than 110 pounds. He's six-seven and weighed 250 when he was skinny. He and Keith taught me most of my moves, too, so I'd never be able to surprise him. I need to stop him before he gets close enough to touch me, or I don't stand a chance."  
  
Steve digested what she told him, then said, "But you fought him off once before."  
  
"After he'd been shot in the head."  
  
Steve nodded, and asked carefully, "Could you kill him if you had to?"  
  
She was quiet so long he thought she might refuse to answer. Finally, she said, "Not for me, not in self-defense. If he were hurting someone else, I might, but I don't know."  
  
Steve thought she looked totally lost and alone.  
  
He took her delicate hands in his and kissed them. "Promise me that if I can't help you, you'll do what you must to stop him?"  
  
"I'll do what I can, Steve."  
  
"Do whatever it takes, Liv. Promise."  
  
She shook her head. "I can't make that promise. I won't."  
  
"Liv," he said seriously.  
  
"Steve, no. I can defend myself. I will defend myself, but I'm not sure I can kill a man. I won't promise anything that includes that possibility."  
  
"Then if it comes to that I'll have to make sure I'm there to do it," he said in a challenging tone.  
  
Surprisingly, she acquiesced. "Suit yourself." She handed him his orange juice and said, "Drink this and finish your breakfast, then I'm going to give you that massage. In half an hour, I want to get you in the hot tub. We'll loosen up those muscles and see how you feel."  
  
Knowing enough to let the matter lie, he did as he was told.  
  
As it turned out, the massage relaxed him sufficiently that he did not need to soak in the hot tub. After a quick shower and a couple of Advil, he felt ready to face the day.  
  
He came out of the bathroom toweling his hair and saying, "Liv, that tub is big enough to swim laps!"  
  
She laughed, and told him, "Actually, babe, that's what the pool is for."  
  
His eyebrows shot up and she threw his jeans at him saying, "Get your clothes on, and I'll give you the tour."  
  
They started at the French doors to the right of the bed. These opened onto a balcony that overlooked a sloping bank and a lazy stream edged with wild grape vines and berry bushes. Another set of French doors led to a balcony providing a wonderful view of an open meadow bordered by the forest. They watched for a few minutes while several deer came out of the woods and foraged for food hidden beneath the snow. The door beside the vanity was a walk-in closet, Steve had been in the master bath, and the other door opened onto the hall.  
  
Olivia led him through the master bath into a well-appointed personal gym. Several weight machines, as well as a treadmill, a stationary bike, and a stair master shared space with a ping-pong table, exercise mats, a hot tub, and a sauna. A fridge sat in the corner, probably stocked with juice and sports drinks. Two doors led out to a wrap-around balcony. The north side of the balcony had the same view as the one in the bedroom, but the western balcony overlooked the pool. When he stepped out, Steve saw steam rising.  
  
"Heated?" he asked.  
  
"Of course. We'll go for a swim tonight."  
  
"I didn't bring my suit."  
  
She giggled. "Neither did I."  
  
Stepping out onto the hall, Liv indicated six more doors, and said simply, "Bathroom, four bedrooms, closet."  
  
She took him downstairs and into a huge living room furnished in dark wood and white leather furniture with an enormous oriental rug on the floor. There were two fireplaces, a grand piano, and a glass faced gun cabinet. "The rifle and shotgun are in there. Ammo's in the drawer, and the key to the cabinet is in the box on the mantle of the near fireplace." Pointing to a set of French doors to his left, she said, "The pool's out there. There's a pool house for people to change and a guesthouse out there, too."  
  
"You mean this house isn't big enough?"  
  
She shrugged. "The original owner had twelve kids."  
  
Steve gave a low whistle. "Guess we know what he liked to do for fun."  
  
She laughed, and indicated another set of doors across the room. "That's the way out to the flower garden."  
  
Leading him to the right through a third set of doors, she said, "And this is the dining room. The table seats eighteen when fully extended. There's a matching table and thirty more chairs in storage."  
  
Steve didn't know much about interior decorating, but he knew pure elegance when he saw it. Three crystal chandeliers illuminated the room, and the candelabra on the mahogany table, sideboard, china cabinet, and buffet echoed the design. A beast of a marble fireplace filled a third of the north wall, and the east wall was mostly windows, with yet another set of French doors opening onto and immaculate patio.  
  
"Liv," Steve said softly, "This is a great house. Is this where you grew up?"  
  
She laughed. "Oh, no, babe. There's not much left of the house I grew up in. This house belonged to a man who attended our church. Mr. Ralph Bradley was old and blind the first time I met him, and he had no family left to take care of him. Mama and Daddy made sure he was never alone for the holidays. No matter how lean things were for us, there was always a place for him at our table on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and every Sunday. There was always a present under the tree, and a basket from the Easter bunny, too."  
  
"I see," Steve said. "And since your family was gone, he left it to you."  
  
"Not exactly. He left it all to Daddy. We were going to move in here, had everything packed and ready to go the next day. That night the house burned. A long lost relative of Mr. Bradley's showed up to claim the estate, but Jud and May Stephens hired a lawyer to fight it. I got seventy- five percent of all financial holdings and all the real estate. The relative got the other quarter of the money."  
  
"Liv, forgive me for asking, but, how did you survive the fire?"  
  
She turned from him and walked out into the hall, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. "I was away from home," she said. "I'll tell you all about it later, but right now, let's finish the tour. You haven't even seen the coolest part yet."  
  
She led him into a large country kitchen with a flagstone floor and butcher- block counters. There was a roomy breakfast nook in one corner, a center island with a sealed cook-top and an overhead rack for pots, pans, and utensils. The sink was under a window that looked down the driveway, and there was a double oven near the utility room. The refrigerator and the dishwasher had doors designed to match the cupboards so they blended right in, and the walk-in pantry contained all the usual foodstuffs as well as a large chest freezer and a variety of small kitchen appliances.  
  
Steve grinned. "My dad could spend all day here."  
  
Liv laughed. "I'm sure he'd enjoy himself, but he might prefer the library. We'll get there in just a minute."  
  
She led him into the mudroom through a door in the corner of the breakfast nook. There was nothing there but a washer, dryer, laundry chute, doormat, and a few potted plants, but like every room he had seen so far, it was nicely pulled together with a decorative theme. This time, Liv had chosen sunflowers.  
  
She led him back into the hall and pointed to a door at the end. "That's a half-bath. There's a full bath at the top of the stairs, and two more half- baths, one for each pair of guestrooms."  
  
Opening a door to his left, she said, "This is the parlor."  
  
The room was bright and airy, decorated in what Steve thought was a tasteful blend of stripes and floral patterns. He also saw yet another fireplace.  
  
"Liv, how many fireplaces does this house have?"  
  
He shook his head when he saw he counting on her fingers. "Eleven, including the four in the guestrooms and one downstairs, but there used to be thirteen. I did away with two when I remodeled. I turned the husband's bedroom into a master bedroom, his dressing room and the wife's sitting room became the walk-in closet and the master bath, and her bedroom became the gym. Her fireplace is now the heat source for the sauna. I just completely tore out the fireplace that used to be in the kitchen. I couldn't figure out how to work around it. Let's go into the library."  
  
The library was pretty much what Steve expected. He saw lots of books, some comfortable chairs, a desk, a window seat, and of course, a fireplace, but nothing that would lead him to believe his dad would find it more exciting than the kitchen.  
  
"This is nice, all right, Liv, but what made you think this would get Dad all hot and bothered. She grinned enigmatically and crooked a finger at him indicating he should follow. She led him to a set of shelves and said, "Read the titles."  
  
"Hmm…The Mysterious Affair at Styles…Murder in the Vicarage…The Fall of the House of Usher…The Hound of the Baskervilles…The Dirty Duck…Ellery Queen, Dashiell Hamett, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden…It's quite a collection of mysteries, but I think Dad's read most of them, except maybe the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden books. Girl stuff, y'know?"  
  
"Yeah, they're all mysteries, but what's special about them?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "Most of them are old."  
  
She continued to stare at him.  
  
"How old are they, Liv?"  
  
She smiled and said, "This is one of Meyer Goldstein's little investments. Every one of these books is a pristine first edition, and some are worth several thousand dollars to the right buyer. Some are even signed. Meyer's been working on the collection for twenty years now. Last time we spoke about it, he was missing one Sherlock Holmes, two Nancy Drews, and a Miss Marple, but he had people looking for him."  
  
Steve grinned. "Dad would be in heaven."  
  
"Let's go downstairs."  
  
In the basement, there was a rumpus room with comfortable furniture, a wet bar, dartboard, card table, pool table, and fireplace. A large wooden box in the corner held a variety of sporting equipment as well, and a short stairwell led out to the south side of the house. Across the hall, Olivia led him into a large wine cellar with red, green, and yellow racks. "It's color coded so I know what I can drink," Liv laughed. "The green is drinking wine, the red is off limits because it's strictly for investment, and the yellow…I have to call Meyer before I touch it to find out if the value has gone up." The last room of the house was a huge storage room filled mostly with furniture and decorative items. "I had the whole basement sealed and installed a humidity control system, so it's safe for my antiques."  
  
"So that's the house, huh? It's awesome."  
  
"That's almost the house," Liv corrected. "You haven't seen the best part. The old guy who sealed the basement died a few years ago, so, as far as I know, I'm the only person alive who knows about this. You'll be the second."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"This house used to be a stop on the Underground Railroad bringing slaves up from the South. Look at this."  
  
She led him to what appeared to be a support pillar in the center of one of the basement walls. She pulled out a fist-sized stone, reached in the hole, and pulled a lever. A whole chunk of the wall opened by pivoting around the pillar.  
  
"Wow!" Steve whispered in amazement.  
  
Liv replaced the stone carefully, took his hand, and pulled him into the darkness. After closing the entrance behind them, she took a flashlight off a nearby shelf and showed him around. A tunnel stretched in two directions.  
  
"That way," she pointed to the right, "goes to the barn. It brings you up into a secret little room. Down there," she pointed left, "Takes you to the well in the garden. There are handholds in the stone you can use to climb out." Sticking the flashlight in her hip pocket, she said, "Give me a boost."  
  
Steve did as he was told, and was surprised to see Liv and the light disappear into the ceiling. Moments later the light shined down in his eyes, and she dropped him a rope.  
  
"Use the rope to climb up to where you can reach the ladder."  
  
He shinnied up the rope, climbed the ladder, and found himself emerging through a trap door into a small closet. She pushed the door open, and he found himself stepping into the utility room off the kitchen. Liv turned around, pulled the rope up and coiled it to the side of the hole and closed the trap door. As he watched, she jumped, caught hold of something, and pulled herself up and out of sight again.  
  
"Follow me," she called, "and shut the door behind you."  
  
This time, when he exited the closet, he found himself in the master bedroom again.  
  
"Damn, Liv," Steve said in amazement, "This is just too cool."  
  
"Language, Steve."  
  
"Oh, sorry, but this is wild."  
  
"One more stop, babe. Close the door."  
  
They went up another floor, and when she opened the closet, they were in a large storage room with a sloping ceiling.  
  
"The attic?" Steve queried.  
  
"Yup. This half is just storage, but there's a two bedroom apartment at the other end. It even has a kitchen, bath, and living room." Leading him through the attic and back to the master bedroom on the second floor, she said, "Please keep this between us, Steve. I know it sounds silly, but until today it was a secret that belonged just to me, and it's kind of fun having something nobody else knows about."  
  
Steve smiled at her and said, "Ok, Liv. It is neat, but if Jesse ever visits, can I use it to scare the daylights out of him?"  
  
Liv smiled, "As long as I get to watch."  
  
She went over to the vanity, put her shoulder holster on, checked her revolver to be sure the safety was on, and placed it in the holster.  
  
Somberly, Steve asked, "Do you think you're going to need that?"  
  
She shrugged. "I hope to God not, but if I do, I don't want to have to go to far to get it."  
  
Steve nodded and got his weapon from the nightstand.  
  
"While we're on the subject, there's a matter I'd like to discuss, Liv."  
  
"Ok."  
  
He took a deep breath, knowing she was going to fight him on this.  
  
"We're not safe here, Liv. This house is too big and too isolated. There are too many ways for Ted to get in and too many places for him to hide. If he cuts the phones, help is a long way off. I think we should find a room in town."  
  
"There aren't any, Steve."  
  
"That's ridiculous, Liv. I know I saw at least one motel."  
  
"Yep, but today's Groundhog Day. You'd be amazed how many people come to see Phil crawl out of his hole. There's no vacancy within thirty miles."  
  
"I see. Then we should stay with some of your friends."  
  
"And bring Ted to them? I don't think so, Steve. You can do what you want, but I'm staying here."  
  
"Liv, I just think…"  
  
"No discussion, Steve. My mind is made up." She walked out of the bedroom, leaving him to argue with the walls.  
  
As she led the way back downstairs, she said, "I thought we'd join Jud and May Stephens for lunch. They took me in after the fire, and they're the closest thing to family I have left around here."  
  
Knowing he would get nowhere with her right now, Steve let it go, for the moment. "They're Keith and Kenney's folks, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Um, Steve?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Don't be surprised if Keith is…well…not exactly friendly. He and I share quite a lot of history, and…"  
  
"We already met, Liv, the sheriff saw to it. He's the deputy who issued my gun."  
  
"Oh. Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"I wasn't sure how you'd take it."  
  
Olivia took a seat by the fireplace in the den to make a call while Steve stared out at the snow-covered garden. He felt like a target. There were just too many doors and windows to this place. It was a trap waiting to spring. His mind wrapped itself around and around the problem as he listened in on Olivia's end of the phone conversation.  
  
"Hi, May?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me." Steve heard the smile in her voice.  
  
"My boyfriend and I are in town for a visit, and I was wondering….Could we come over for lunch? I'd really like you to meet him." She sounded strange, almost like she was begging. Was she afraid they'd say no?  
  
"Yeah, Steve told me they met." She was worried.  
  
"Well, now, May, if I know Keith, he still thinks he has reason to hate anyone who comes round here with me. He always was a bad one for holding a grudge." Steve frowned. She was pissed. He heard her take a deep breath, and when she spoke again, she was on the verge of tears.  
  
"Look, May, you and Jud did so much for me after my folks died. I want him to meet you because I can't take him to meet Mama and Daddy. I don't much care what anyone else thinks, but your opinions matter to me."  
  
"I know it's been a long time, May, but the only way I can explain is that it hurt too much to be here." Now she was in tears.  
  
"Don't cry May….I can't help it either….We can? Ok, we'll be there in forty-five minutes….I know, May. I love you, too."  
  
Steve came over to her chair, and when she stood up, he put his arms around her. "You ok?"  
  
"Yep." She sniffed, smiled, wiped her eyes, and said, "Let's go, we have a lunch date."  
  
It was a long drive to the Stephens's place, but the day was nice and clear, and in most places, the roads were in good condition. When Steve commented on the length of the trip, Liv laughed and told him, "That's one thing I never liked about this area. You have to go so far to get anywhere."  
  
The Stephens's house was a pretty, two-story white farmhouse with a white picket fence and a wide front porch. Before Steve and Liv could get out of the jeep, an older couple was running out to meet them. She was medium height and he was at least six feet tall. Both had salt and pepper hair and both wore jeans and flannel shirts. Her hair was back in a neat bun with loose curls floating around her face, and he had a bristly mustache and a receding hairline like his son's. Both were grinning ear-to-ear and laughing out loud.  
  
"Welcome home, Livvie!"  
  
"Girlie, you look good!"  
  
"I made your favorite, tuna casserole."  
  
"Yeah, and she told me I had to wait until you got here."  
  
"Jud, May, let's go in, please. It's freezing out here and I'm starving. This is Steve. Steve, Judson and May Stephens."  
  
May nodded and Judson shook his hand warmly.  
  
"It's nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Stephens."  
  
Jud made an amused sound and told Steve, "I'm Jud, and she's May. That's what you're to call us, understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir…Jud." Steve liked these people already.  
  
As they bundled into the house, May said, "Steve, I understand you met our boys yesterday."  
  
"I hope you don't hold it against the rest of the family," Jud said sarcastically.  
  
"Judson…" May warned.  
  
"May?" Jud responded innocently.  
  
Steve tried to smooth things over as he took off his coat. "Yes, I did, May, and I can assure you, neither of them said or did anything that was inappropriate under the circumstances."  
  
Jud snorted and said, "If you think like they do, you'd say that even if they'd beat your head in."  
  
"Jud!" Both May and Olivia yelled at him.  
  
Jud kept talking as he headed back the hall with their coats.  
  
"As LUCK would have it, NEITHER of them is HOME today, but understand THIS, Steve. If I EVER get wind of EITHER of those KNOTHEADS giving you ANY trouble, I WILL make them REGRET it! I may be an old man, but I am STILL their DADDY, and I can TAN their HIDES any time I WANT!"  
  
May was visibly embarrassed. Olivia was trying not to laugh for May's sake, and Steve didn't know what to think, but he certainly appreciated the show of support he was getting from this complete stranger.  
  
"Thanks, I think, Jud. But wouldn't you rather get to know me before you take a stand like that?"  
  
Jud grinned and said, "Kent Hargrove called me yesterday. I knew all I needed to know about you before you finished your breakfast. Irene Branch filled me in over lunch, and Sheriff Daniels caught up with me at the ball game last night. Everybody I trust to have good judgment says you're ok, and that's good enough for me."  
  
Steve couldn't help but grin back. "Well, I do appreciate that, Jud. Thanks again."  
  
"It's nothing son, and just so you know, my boys will come around. They both love Livvie, and as long as you're good to her, they'll come around."  
  
Steve nodded, "I hope so."  
  
"Good," Jud said, "Now that we've cleared the air about that, LET'S EAT."  
  
May was an excellent cook. When Steve complimented her and asked if she had taught Liv, May laughed and told him, "Oh, I can cook all right, but Livvie taught me how to make this dish. It was her mama's recipe."  
  
Liv nodded and said, "That's right, and every year for my birthday, Mama used to make this and that chocolate cake we had at your welcome home party."  
  
"Actually," May said, slightly embarrassed, "Most of my family's favorite dishes are recipes I got from Livvie."  
  
She turned bright red when Jud leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and said, "It don't matter where the recipes came from, woman, it's love that makes them good."  
  
Steve smiled to see the older couple flirt, and for a moment, it made his heart ache as he thought his parents would still act that way if his mom had lived. He looked at Liv. She wore a soft, sad smile, and he knew in that moment that her thoughts were traveling along similar lines.  
  
As they ate and chatted, Steve learned more about Olivia's childhood and youth than he ever expected to know. He didn't say much, but he enjoyed hearing Liv and her foster parents reminiscing. Most of the stories were funny and highly embarrassing to Liv, but others were touching and poignant. One he especially liked was about when Olivia learned about drunk driving statistics in the county. She had gotten Cloud Nine to help her establish a free transportation service for people who had had too much to drink. She had hired a dispatcher and gotten a number of adults to volunteer as well. She installed a CB in every car, and when a call came in, depending on the age of the callers one of the Cloud Nine girls or an adult volunteer picked up the person and took them home. She paid mileage for the drivers out of her inheritance. Olivia also started tracking the number of calls made by certain individuals and got them into alcoholism treatment programs.  
  
"For fifteen years now, our DUI and alcoholism statistics have been among the lowest in the state," Jud said proudly.  
  
Steve looked at Liv and said, "You've always had a strong sense of social responsibility, haven't you."  
  
Liv shrugged and said, "Mama and Daddy brought me up that way, and Jud and May finished the job. Making the world better for others makes it better for me, too."  
  
As they moved into the living room, Jud chuckled and said, "Sometimes she got a little carried away with her 'social responsibility,' though. High school football will never be the same."  
  
"Jud," Liv threatened, "Don't you dare."  
  
"Oh, now Livvie, at the time you wanted people to know."  
  
"What happened?" Steve asked.  
  
"At the time, I was thirteen years old, now I'm old enough to be ashamed and embarrassed."  
  
May laughed, "All the more reason for him to tell it, hon."  
  
Olivia groaned and hid her face, knowing she was going to have to suffer through yet another embarrassing story.  
  
Jud looked at May and said, "Help me out, Mother. That would have been Livvie's first year as a varsity cheerleader, right?"  
  
Liv moaned, "You know very well it was."  
  
"This is a great story, son," Jud said in a conspiratorial tone as he leaned toward Steve.  
  
A local printing firm had donated football programs for all the home games, and the cheerleaders sold them for seventy-five cents a piece before the game and at half time.  
  
"It didn't matter what the weather, we were always there an hour early, and we never got a break for hot chocolate or anything during halftime. At least the players got to go into a heated field house."  
  
"Yeah, whatever, Livvie." Judson continued with the story.  
  
Liv, being ever the curious one, decided to find out where the money went. It took a couple of weeks, but she eventually found that it all went into the football team's account. She was deeply offended and decided to take action. She started with the cheerleading coach who told her it had always been that way, and the coach knew it was unfair, but she had tried and failed to change things.  
  
"That was like a red cape to a bull, son. Livvie dug in and made up her mind that she was going to change things or die trying."  
  
"You encouraged me, Jud."  
  
"That was before I knew what you were about to get into," he grinned.  
  
"I did nothing wrong."  
  
"At least nothing that could be proven."  
  
She went to the head football coach next and when he gave her the brush off, every helmet in the field house was full of horse manure when the players arrived for the next game. On the door was a note saying, "We demand fair treatment. Give the cheerleaders a fair cut or sell your own programs." Olivia had been at the diner until time for the cheerleaders to report. Casey and Irene confirmed it.  
  
"At least it was horse turds and not gutter slop from the cows," Olivia protested.  
  
Of course, nobody knew who had done it, but Liv was the prime suspect. The next week was an away game, and Olivia took advantage of the intervening time to press her cause. She prepared a well-researched, reasonable argument in support of giving the cheerleaders two thirds of the funds raised from the program sales. She gave the football coach and the principal each a copy, and when she again received a negative response, the players' jock straps got soaked in liniment just in time for the next home game.  
  
Steve cringed at that. He'd been a victim of the same practical joke as a JV player in junior high.  
  
"And would you believe it was their biggest win of the year? Forty-nine to nothing," Jud said.  
  
"Yeah, and the coach tried to talk the team into doing it again for the next game. Superstition, you know."  
  
This time Olivia had been working as a receptionist at the county old folks home as part of a church service project, and she had her time sheet to prove it. "A certain amount of Christian service was required for our confirmation, and we had to have the sheets signed."  
  
She went to the superintendent with the same argument, this time demanding seventy-five percent of the money. He said no and explained that a child, especially a girl, could not be reasonably expected to have any comprehension of the issues involved.  
  
"I told him I understood the issues better than he did: chauvinism, greed, and condescension."  
  
This time every one of the game balls blew apart on the kick-off. They had to send someone to a sporting good store to buy a new one. The next day, the coach found an envelope full of cash on his desk and a note saying, "Sorry about the expense. Give the cheerleaders a fair cut and maybe we'll tell you how we did it."  
  
Liv grinned, "Razor blades. Don't slice through the stitches, shave across them….Or so I've heard."  
  
Finally, she got a hearing before the school board. They kicked the matter back to the principal, who refused to do anything about it. Then *really* bad things started happening. Monday at practice, the tackling dummies all fell apart on the first hit due to loose hardware. When it rained on Tuesday, the words, "Fair treatment for the cheerleaders, give them a fair cut," bubbled up in the end zone where someone had written the words with laundry detergent. Somebody cut off the water heater at the field house on Wednesday, and none of the players got a hot shower after practice. On Thursday, all the sports drink was laced with salt and hot sauce. On Friday morning, the principal came in to find that the press box had been torn down and reassembled in the main lobby of the school. Nailed to the door was a note saying, "If it's this bad already, just wait until homecoming. Give the cheerleaders a fair cut."  
  
Liv always had an alibi.  
  
"I can't believe they didn't put a guard on the stadium," Steve laughed.  
  
"They did," Jud said. "That's why no one could ever figure out how she got away with it."  
  
"Jud," Olivia protested, "I never 'got away with' anything. Do you really think I could have faked waiting tables at the diner or moved the press box across campus myself."  
  
"Yeah, Livvie, I know, but only you had the creative mind to come up with such stunts, and you had a lot of kids who liked you enough to get into some mischief for you."  
  
Olivia was sent home that day before she even got to her locker and told not to return without Jud. The principal gave Keith permission to drive her home.  
  
"The first thing she did was call her lawyer, Harold Pendergast," May said. "Then she changed into the navy-blue business suit she wore to the old folks home, put her hair up, and dug out her high heels. It made her look ten years older, at least. She made Jud wear a suit, too, and she put copies of all the letters she'd written and responses she'd received about the matter in this nice leather portfolio she used for taking notes in school. She got her tape recorder, put in new batteries, and found a blank tape in Kenney's room."  
  
"On the way back to school, we had a long talk." Jud took over. "She reminded me that when it all started I had told her she should stand up for what she thought was right, and she asked me if I agreed that the cheerleaders should get a percentage of the take on the programs."  
  
"And you did," Olivia put in.  
  
"Yes, I did." Jud agreed, "and when she asked if I thought she had followed proper channels, I said she had. Then she asked if I would support her if she forced this thing to its inevitable conclusion."  
  
Olivia got up and kissed the old man on the cheek. "And you said yes."  
  
"I said yes, even though the words 'inevitable conclusion' scared the beans out of me."  
  
Steve could barely contain himself, "I can just imagine what she did next."  
  
"Oh, no, son, you can't begin to imagine," Jud swore. "We met Harold outside the school, and Olivia told us both, 'I know exactly what I'm going to say and do. Just roll with it, and everything will be cool.'"  
  
Jud was truly warming to his story now.  
  
"Harold and I just looked at each other and shrugged. We went to the receptionist, and she soon showed us into the principal's private office. There were none of the usual formalities this time, let me tell you. Livvie thumped that tape recorder down on the desk, hit record, and said, 'Mr. White, let me make this perfectly clear. This meeting isn't happening unless I can record it. Any objections?'  
  
"Jack 'The Ass' White," May and Olivia both cringed at the name-calling, "was looking forward to it. He didn't know he had Olivia right where SHE wanted HIM.  
  
"'I have no objections at all, Miss Regis,' he said, 'I have nothing to hide. Why do you feel you need a lawyer?' The fool had no idea what he was dealing with," Jud said proudly. "At the time, though, neither did I."  
  
"Livvie looked at White and said, 'You might be glad he's here before it's all said and done. The temptation to do something foolhardy is strong when tempers run hot. He might prevent you from taking actions that could cost you your job.'"  
  
"Wait a minute," Steve interrupted, "You're a heartbeat away from expulsion, and you go in there and threaten the man's job? Liv, that's insane!"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Steve gave her a measuring look and said, "And typical, I'll bet."  
  
Liv grinned, "Yep."  
  
Steve turned back to Jud and asked, "What happened?"  
  
Jud laughed, "She let White think it was his meeting. He asked her a bunch of questions about the various incidents at the football field and she gave him the same answer every time."  
  
"What?" Steve asked, "That she had an alibi?"  
  
Jud shook his head and laughed harder, "Ohhh, no. Nothing that easy, but you have to hear her say it. How'd it go, Livvie?"  
  
Olivia folded her hands in her lap, sat up straight, put on a purely innocent face, and said, "Under the rights granted to me by the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, I respectfully refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me, sir."  
  
By this point, the foursome was laughing uncontrollably.  
  
"You took the Fifth," Steve said, nearly hysterical. "He was going to expel you, and you took the Fifth!"  
  
Jud wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and said, "She did that for an hour and a half, and the funniest part was, the pause before 'sir' got a little longer every time. She made it sound like an afterthought. Pissed White off beyond belief. Several times, she actually interrupted him with it because he started his next question before she 'remembered.' He got so frustrated I thought he was going to stroke out on us. I have never seen a man get that angry without hitting *something*. And our Livvie just sat there cool and collected and sweet and innocent and respectful as could be."  
  
Steve laughed some more. "Now I've seen her do that before. Drives people nuts."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Jud agreed. "Well, White had simply had it. He was through. He told her, 'Miss Regis, you are suspended until further notice. Clean out your locker and go home. You are hereby prohibited from attending any school events or entering any school property until I choose to lift your suspension. That won't be any time soon.'  
  
"Liv looked at him, still the picture of composure and innocence, and asked, 'On what grounds….sir?'"  
  
"White just exploded. 'Grounds? Who says I need grounds? You have been a wicked little creature since you came here! You are an INSTIGATOR and a TROUBLEMAKER! I don't NEED PROOF to know that YOU are responsible for what's been happening at the football field! I am TIRED of you causing trouble in MY SCHOOL! If you were MY CHILD, I would BEAT you within an INCH of your LIFE! You are SUSPENDED for the FULL YEAR! Next year, the first time you SNEEZE, I will PUT YOU OUT for disrupting school. You will NEVER graduate from THIS SCHOOL as long as I LIVE because I LOATH you, you EVIL LITTLE PERSON!' He was stamping his foot and shaking his fists and turning red. His eyes were a-bulging and his veins were a-popping out on his neck and at his temples.  
  
"And when he finished Livvie leaned forward and said quietly, 'Let the record reflect that Mr. White has threatened me with physical abuse.'"  
  
The group dissolved in hysterics again for a while. Finally, Steve choked out a, "Then what?" Olivia finished the story herself.  
  
"I shut off the cassette recorder, and told him, 'Thank you Mr. White, I've got what I need now.' He just stood there panting while I explained. 'You do not have the authority to suspend me for the year. You do not have the authority to suspend me at all under the circumstances. I think out loud, make a suggestion, and something happens. I can't help it that other people take my random thoughts seriously. You can't prove that I did a thing. You will lift my suspension and give the cheerleaders eighty percent of the proceeds from the programs and ten percent from the concession stand, and when I leave this office, I will tell everyone that you were reasonable and understanding and that we easily reached a mutually agreeable solution.'  
  
"'Or what?' he asked.  
  
"'Or, you will suspend me, and I will drag you and the school through the courts from here to doomsday.'  
  
"'It'll never happen,' he said.  
  
"'Actually, it will,' Harold broke in, and started citing case law and appellate court decisions.  
  
"When Harold was finished, I told Mr. White, 'You will suffer through two trials, one in the courthouse, and one in the press. I have more money in the bank right now than the school district takes in for the year.' I didn't know if it was true or not, but then, neither did he. 'I can hire more lawyers and buy more ink at the paper and more airtime on radio and TV than the school could ever hope to. I will cost them so much money over your rash decision that you will be lucky if they recommend you for the night custodian at a K-9 obedience school.'"  
  
Steve just shook his head, "My God, Liv. You're incredible."  
  
She smiled. "He agreed. Harold drew up some documents on the spot, and after he signed them agreeing to give us eighty percent of the program money and ten percent of the concession money he said, 'When this started, you said you only wanted fifty cents for each program.'  
  
"'Yep.'  
  
"'Why so much more now?'  
  
"I'm not proud of what I said," Liv admitted.  
  
Jud laughed, "I sure was. He deserved it."  
  
"What'd you say, Liv?"  
  
"I told him, 'I want eighty percent for the programs to make up for what we didn't get in years past, and ten percent of the concession…because I can get whatever I want.'"  
  
"Mr. White retired the following year," May said.  
  
Steve laughed a little, "Oh my God, Liv. That is just too good. I guess it really was practice for what I saw at the sheriff's office yesterday, wasn't it?"  
  
"It's not funny, Steve. It…It was petty and childish…and…and everything I hated about rich people when I was growing up poor. It was shameful."  
  
"But, Liv, you had good cause," Steve insisted. "The man was a jerk! He had it coming."  
  
"There is never 'good cause' for being mean-spirited, Steve," Olivia declared.  
  
"Maybe not," Steve agreed reluctantly, "but I bet it felt good."  
  
Liv flashed a small grin and said, "Yeah."  
  
May said, "I think you paid for anything you might have done wrong when you got home that afternoon."  
  
"May," live said in warning.  
  
"I mean it, Livvie. She tells that story like it's a joke, but she never tells is how she cried herself sick when she got home. She took a stand all right, and she accomplished what she wanted, but all the yelling and threats had terrified her."  
  
Steve squeezed Liv's hand and said, "I was wondering about that, Liv. I know you don't like to be yelled at."  
  
She shrugged and said, "It's all in the past. I prefer to remember the good bits and let the rest fade into the mists of a selective memory."  
  
They chatted a little longer about this and that, and Steve told Jud about the scene at the sheriff's office the previous day. "Odd how Rick never mentioned it when we talked last night," Jud commented. Steve and Liv related the story about Mark and Jesse "practicing" yoga and how Liv turned their foolishness into a joke on them. Jud laughed and told Liv, "The only thing Jackass White had right about you was that you are a wicked little creature, Livvie."  
  
She gave him an impish smile and said, "But my friends love me in spite of myself." She gave Jud another peck on the cheek.  
  
Before they knew it, it was after three. Liv got up and said, "Jud, May, it's been absolutely wonderful seeing you again, and I promise Steve and I will be back again before we leave, but it's getting late in the day, and I wanted to take Steve by the old homestead before we go back to my house."  
  
"It's been a while since you've been by there, hasn't it?"  
  
Liv nodded. "Twenty three years, May. It'll be twenty-four in June. Except for the memorial service I haven't been back since the fire."  
  
The phone rang and May went to answer it as Jud asked, "Are you sure you can do it, Livvie? I remember what it was like for you when you came back from Europe, and you never even got up the drive."  
  
Liv moved close to Steve and took his hand. "That was twelve years ago. Lately, Jud, I feel like there's nothing I can't do, but I figured we'd come in the back way, behind the barn, and see how it goes. Just in case."  
  
Jud agreed. "Sounds like a plan."  
  
"Livvie," May called from the kitchen. "It's someone named Mark, and he wants to talk to you and Steve. He sounds frantic."  
  
"Oh, my God, Steve! We forgot to call your dad." Liv sprinted for the kitchen with Steve barely a step behind. She grabbed the phone and said, "Hello, Mark…Yeah, we're both fine…How'd you find me here?…Oh, Meyer knows just about everything. I'm not surprised…Yes, he's out, but Steve and I have discussed it to death. I'm staying, and he's decided to stay, with me…Who called you about it?…WHICH Deputy Stephens?" She gave an exasperated huff, "Deputy K. Stephens, huh? Very cute."  
  
Jud muttered, "I'll kill 'em both, so help me God."  
  
"…Look, Mark, Steve and I are taking reasonable precautions. We'll be ok….He's right here. Ok, I'll put him on in just a second."  
  
She covered the mouthpiece and told Steve, "Deputy K. Stephens called your dad and told him Ted was out of prison. Said CG was the last known address he had on me, so he was trying to contact me through my employer. He told your dad to let me know that anyone close to me was in as much danger as I was. Your dad told him I had come back for a visit, and that he could probably reach me at my house."  
  
Just then, a police cruiser pulled up the drive and Jud rushed out of the house. Liv shoved the phone into Steve's hand and said, "You calm your dad down, and I'll keep Jud from killing boys."  
  
"Hello, Dad, sorry we forgot to call."  
  
"Son, I want you to come home now and bring Liv with you," Mark's voice was stern, but Steve could hear the worry.  
  
He answered as he watched Liv step between Jud and the boys, and he wondered if Jud really intended to beat his sons.  
  
"Dad, I can't force her to come back to LA, and I won't leave her here alone. We'll be ok," Steve assured him. "She got the sheriff to contact Captain Newman, and I've been loaned to the sheriff's department to protect her. They've issued me a gun, and would you believe Liv has a permit to carry?"  
  
"Yeah, didn't she tell you? While you were in the hospital, she got Captain Newman to help her out with that."  
  
Steve's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "No kidding."  
  
"Yeah," Mark said, "That girl could sweet talk a hungry tiger out of a steak."  
  
Steve could hear the humor in his father's voice and judged him sufficiently calmed down. Out the window, he could see that Liv had things well under control with Jud and the boys. He wanted to know what was being said, so he decided to end the call.  
  
"Look, Dad, Liv and I are going to be fine, but I know she has plans for this afternoon. I'll call you tonight, around eight your time, ok?"  
  
He heard a sigh, and Mark said, "Ok, son. I feel better now that I've heard your voice. You be careful."  
  
"I will, Dad."  
  
"I love you, son."  
  
"Love you, too, Dad, and hey, remind me to tell you about Liv's first year cheerleading when I call tonight."  
  
Mark chuckled, "Ok, talk to you later, son."  
  
"Bye, Dad."  
  
When Steve got out to the car, Jud was telling his boys, "You two better get to him before I do, or I'll be in his cell, and there won't be enough of him left to put in a pine box."  
  
Steve slipped his arms around Liv, and said, "What's going on, babe?"  
  
She stepped away from him and said, "Keith and Kenney didn't call your dad, Steve, but they found out that Ted had an article stashed in his cell all about my moving to LA and going to work at Community General. It was something the board had published, kind of like bragging rights, I guess, since I chose them over Cedars Sinai and UCSF. There was also an article about your shooting, a small piece in the police blotter section, but it named the hospital and me."  
  
Steve was apprehensive. "Do you think he'd go after my dad, Amanda, and Jesse?"  
  
Keith answered him. "No way. He's got this love obsession with O. He'll kill you and me and anyone else who gets in the way to get to her, but once he's got her, he's harmless."  
  
Steve looked at Liv, and she nodded. "Maybe you should go home, Steve."  
  
"Not a chance, Liv."  
  
"I want you safe."  
  
"I'll be ok. I've been through this kind of thing before."  
  
"Um, ok. Uh…look, I really want to go by…home…before I go back to my house. Watch your back, Keith."  
  
The deputy nodded. "I will." Looking at Steve, he said, "Take care of her."  
  
"She'll be safe with me."  
  
With that, Liv and Steve got in the jeep and left.  
  
On the way to her childhood home, Liv asked tentatively, "Would you mind being a little…less affectionate…around Keith? The last time he saw me was the day he canceled the wedding. I think he might need some time to…adjust…to the idea of you and me being a couple."  
  
"I can do that, Liv, but are you sure it's not you who needs the time?"  
  
He saw anger flash in her eyes, "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Easy, babe. I just meant that the last time you saw him was also when he canceled the wedding. It can't be easy for you either. I can understand if you find it awkward. Take as long as you need, I don't mind."  
  
She sighed and said, "I guess you're right. I was trying to pretend it's no big deal, but I guess it wasn't working."  
  
"Not very well, anyhow."  
  
She pulled the jeep to a stop beside a barn on the edge of a clearing and said, "Here we are."  
  
"There's nothing here, Liv."  
  
"Only to the untutored eye, Steve." She got out of the jeep and went to root around in the back. Eventually, she pulled out a telescope, which she set up and focused. She waved him over and said, "Look. That's where we used to play baseball. The spruce was first base, the dogwood was second, and the maple tree was third. Home was just a bald spot in the yard."  
  
Steve looked, and said, "Hey, it's almost a perfect infield, isn't it?"  
  
"Uh-huh, here, let me show you something else."  
  
He moved out of the way and she adjusted the telescope again. When he looked back through it, he saw a tree. "Once I read a poem about a boy who liked to climb birch trees. He'd go all the way up to the tippy-top branches and then swing out on the limbs and let the trees set him back on the ground. I liked it so much I tried it once. Daddy caught me."  
  
Steve laughed. "What did he do?"  
  
"Grounded me for a week."  
  
"He was probably afraid you'd break your neck."  
  
He stepped back to smile at her, and she jumped to the telescope and refocused it again. As he looked through, she said, "That's where Pauly set the dog on my bunny. If you look closely, you can see the remains of the doghouse."  
  
Again and again, she showed him things through the telescope that he'd heard about from her childhood. He was freezing, and wanted to get this over with, but he knew she really had to work her way up to it. Finally, she focused on the charred foundation of a house.  
  
"Eight of us lived there," she whispered. "Three boys in each bedroom, Mama and Daddy in the master bedroom, and Beth and me in a room Daddy partitioned off from the living room. It was a foot wider and three feet longer than our bunk bed."  
  
As he looked through the eyepiece, she said simply, "I need to go down there, Steve."  
  
"Do you want me to come?"  
  
"If you want."  
  
"I want to be there for you, Liv."  
  
"Ok."  
  
She started walking. It was only fifty yards across a snowy field of corn stubble, but she dragged her feet, so it seemed much further. Finally, they stopped a few feet from the edge of the foundation. She stood very still, and Steve slipped his arms around her. This time she did not walk away.  
  
"I was twelve years old, Steve. I'd gotten a job delivering newspapers, and I had saved enough money to buy something for Mother's Day and Father's Day, and to pay for 4-H camp. I used to go on what they called, 'scholarship.' It meant I gave up a game or swimming period every day to help in the mess hall so I didn't have to pay. I was so proud of myself because for the first time, I would be just like the rest of the kids and I didn't have to scrape trays and sweep floors."  
  
Steve squeezed a little tighter and she leaned against him.  
  
"I'd made Mama a flower pot and Daddy a little leather key chain. They had a fly-tying workshop, and I'd made one for each of the boys. I had a bracelet for Beth. It felt so good to be bringing presents home for once. I finally had something to give them."  
  
She started to shake slightly.  
  
"Let's go, Liv. It's cold out here."  
  
She didn't budge. He wasn't sure she heard him.  
  
"Nobody came to pick me up at the Grange Hall when we came back, and I thought they'd forgotten me. I was angry and hurt, but one of the county extension agents gave me a ride home. He dropped me off at the end of the lane where we came in, and I walked to the house. The firemen were looking for my body when I came around the corner of the barn. No one at the scene knew I had gone to camp."  
  
"My God, Liv. You just walked up on it? All alone?"  
  
She turned and pointed back to the jeep. "I came running right down through here. The leaves of the corn plants cut up my arms and legs, but I never noticed. One of the firemen caught me before I got to the…ruins, but I screamed and fought and kicked and bit until I finally got loose."  
  
She slipped from Steve's embrace. "I ran into the debris, right here."  
  
She moved to a corner of the foundation, and walked into the ruins. "I guess I was looking for my family. My shoes started to melt in one of the hotspots. I screamed myself hoarse, calling for them like I thought they could hear me. Maybe I thought they were hiding. I don't know."  
  
She turned to face north. Steve could see that her eyes were closed. She was reliving events. Pointing to a place in her mind, she said, "The moving van was right there. Then I saw the body bags. My whole world narrowed down to one…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…black plastic body bags." She pointed at each one in her mind as she counted them in a trembling voice. "They were arranged in order of size. Benny was first. He was bigger than Daddy. Then Pauly and Andy. Then John-John, for some reason he was the only one of the guys with short genes. He was a good five, maybe six inches shorter than Andy even though Andy was eleven years younger. After John-John came Mama, then Beth. The last one was for me. I looked at a fireman and asked, 'Am I dead?' He said, 'No.' And I screamed."  
  
She sank down to her knees in the snow and the rubble.  
  
"Liv…"  
  
She didn't hear him.  
  
"I don't know…what I screamed," her voice took on a desperate tone and she began talking rapidly, "but I screamed and screamed and screamed until I was coughing up blood, and I ran from one body bag to another, back and forth and back and forth trying to get the courage to open one and look at my family and see that it was real and…and"  
  
She broke into sobs.  
  
"Liv…"  
  
"…and I finally opened the empty one and tried to crawl in it."  
  
She ran trembling hands over her face and through her hair. Then she wrapped her arms around herself and started to rock back and forth on her knees. Tears were streaming down her face.  
  
She was panting for breath as she continued. "We were going to move into the house Mr. Bradley had left us the next day. They were waiting for me to get home from camp. I insisted on being there to say goodbye to our old house. It was my fault."  
  
"No, Liv, it just happened. You didn't cause it," Steve said softly.  
  
She nodded, and Steve hoped she was agreeing. After all, she had said it had taken her years to realize it wasn't her fault. He hoped this visit wasn't changing her mind about it. He couldn't imagine what that kind of guilt must have been like for a twelve-year-old child, and he didn't want her reliving it now.  
  
"I had never in my life wanted anything more than to be dead at that moment. The firemen kept trying to pull me out, but I'd fight loose and try to get into the body bag again. I kept screaming, 'Take me, too, God. Take me now.'"  
  
Steve walked over to her, knelt behind her, and rocked with her, gently shushing her as she babbled on at a frantic pace.  
  
"I ran back to where my bedroom used to be and rolled in the ashes and muck and made myself black all over, and I told the firemen, 'See, I burned up, too,' and I tried to crawl back in the body bag, and I kept insisting I was dead. I could smell burnt flesh and burnt plastic and the body bags had a smell of their own, and everything was soggy and it stank and I'll never forget the smell of those black plastic body bags. My eyes burned and hurt because of the ashes in them and I tasted blood and I started throwing up and…"  
  
She fell silent and became deathly still for several moments, and then she started to wail. It was a wild, high-pitched animal sound that made Steve's insides shake and the hair on the back of his arms stand up. He didn't know what to do, and he was afraid she was having a breakdown right there in his arms.  
  
"OH, GOD, STEVE! GET ME AWAY FROM HERE NOW!"  
  
Without a moment's hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and started to run with her to the jeep, glad that she knew she was with him. He wasn't sure, but he thought it was a good sign that she was still in the present. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed hysterically. At the jeep, he sat on the hood and rocked her gently in his lap, telling her it was all right and he loved her.  
  
Little by very little, she calmed down; and, with her face still buried in his the crook of his neck, she finished her story.  
  
"They finally sedated me, and I woke up days later in a straight jacket. At first, my eyes were bandaged to let them heal from the damage the ashes had done. My throat was so sore from screaming it still hurt to breathe, and I had a lot of cuts and burns. I didn't know why I was there. I didn't remember. I kept asking for Mama and Daddy. When the psychiatrist told me what had happened I denied it. I screamed and hollered and cussed and cried and tried to escape for days. Then one day, when I was trying to sneak out of the hospital, I hid from security in the morgue. The smell of the body bags brought it all back. They eventually found me sitting on the floor under an autopsy table. I stopped talking for almost a month. Ostensibly, I was in the hospital for my physical injuries, but everyone who knew me knew I'd lost my mind. The grief and…guilt and the…aloneness…were overwhelming."  
  
"I can't begin to imagine, sweetheart," Steve said as he rubbed her back.  
  
She slipped off his lap and started to walk back toward the ruins. He caught her by the sleeve. "Liv, are you sure you want to go back down there?"  
  
She nodded mechanically and kept going. She walked past the ruins and down over the bank to a small stream. Seven weeping willows grew by the stream.  
  
"I missed their funerals. Jud and May took care of all of that." She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I know…they were…all burned up, but I still wish I could have seen them once more. I think it would have been easier to go on if I had just SEEN them. It would have made it all real. That July would have been Mama and Daddy's thirtieth anniversary. We held a memorial service that day and I planted these trees. At the time, I chose weeping willows because I thought they were pretty and they love water, but now, I like to think they cry all the time in my place so I can do other things with my life."  
  
Steve wrapped his arms around her again. "They are beautiful."  
  
She slipped away. He watched as she walked back and forth under the trees for several minutes. She touched every one of them, brushing the ends of the overhanging branches, laying her cheek against the bark, wrapping an arm around the trunk. She seemed to be drawing strength from them. Finally, she bowed her head and seemed to utter a brief prayer.  
  
It was almost dark when she came to him and said with a sigh, "I'm ok now. I can't let it go, but I can put it behind me. I'll drive a stake to mark my path and forge ahead from here. It's a landmark, not a dead end, Steve, and I'm ready to go on, with you."  
  
He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she put hers around his waist. They walked back to the jeep in silence, and after a lingering hug and a kiss, they climbed in and drove off.  
  
Neither of them noticed the tall shadowy figure lurking in the dark shadows inside the barn. 


	35. My Heart Will Always Come Home to You

"My Heart Will Always Come Home to You" Copyright 2001 by the author.  
  
(Chapter 35. February 4. Various places in Pennsylvania.)  
  
"I don't know. Let me ask him."  
  
Steve was soaking in the hot tub, just relaxing, when Liv came walking in naked except for a towel, and freckled and so sexy Steve just couldn't stand it. Dropping the towel, she instantly got his undivided attention.  
  
"Ask me what?" He was ready to say yes to anything.  
  
She stepped into the hot tub and said to the phone, "Hold on a sec." Covering the mouthpiece, she told him, "Keith, Kenney, and Beechie are going to the practice range this evening after work, then the whole gang's going to meet at a club in DuBois. They wanted to know if we'd come along."  
  
Make that *almost* anything.  
  
"Mmm," Steve made an uneasy noise, "are you sure I'd be welcome?"  
  
Olivia thought for a moment and said, "It might be a bit prickly at first, but they wouldn't have made the invitation if they didn't want to try to get along. They're good guys, Steve. They'll make the best of it, and at the club, you'll be able to meet all the people you've heard so many stories about the past couple of days. This is kind of a tradition, and I'm sure they'll behave themselves."  
  
Steve was troubled at the thought of spending the evening surrounded by Liv's ex-fiancé and his friends. True, they were Olivia's friends, too, but she hadn't seen them in years. Still, he wouldn't admit his nervousness to Liv. It was important to her that he and her friends liked one another. If she wanted to hang out with the gang, he'd go along and try to enjoy himself. As long as she was comfortable with the idea…  
  
"Are you sure you and Keith will be ok?"  
  
"Look, you and I will come up with a secret code word we can use if either of us wants to bail out, ok? And we'll have an excuse already prepared just in case."  
  
"I guess that sounds good. Let's do it."  
  
"Hey, Kenney? Yeah, we'll be there. What time? Four o'clock? See you there. Of course, I'll bring my guitar. See ya."  
  
She turned the phone off, put it down on the floor, and slid it away from the hot tub.  
  
Steve looked at her through half-shut eyes as she settled in the water beside him and asked, "Guitar?"  
  
"Yeah, didn't you notice? I brought it with me from LA. I play some. Once a month we used to get together and go to the open mike night. A few of us sang or did comedy, and the rest came just to cheer. We'd pretty much fill the club. It was great. I used to write songs, too, and I'd try out at least one new one every time."  
  
"Oh, I see. I knew you could sing, but I didn't know you were a musician and a songwriter, too."  
  
"No reason you should. I considered bringing my guitar to the Christmas party, but being the 'new kid,' I decided against it."  
  
"Well, now I'm looking forward to tonight," Steve said as he pulled her onto his lap. "I want to hear you play. By the way, sweetie, what time is it?"  
  
"Almost noon, why?"  
  
He ran a finger down the inside of her arm from elbow to wrist, and said, "I think we might be a little late."  
  
Olivia giggled as she caught his meaning, and he couldn't help but grin.  
  
  
  
  
  
They arrived at the practice range at about quarter after four, and Olivia had to explain to the attendant that she and Steve were guests of some members. Kenney and Keith finally spotted them and came over to straighten things out. Keith was walking with crutches this evening. With his prosthetic legs, he stood about five and a half feet tall. He didn't look properly proportioned, and Steve supposed that for some reason, the prosthetics were shorter than his real legs had been. He felt an involuntary shiver race up his spine as he realized again how close he had come to sharing the other man's fate.  
  
"Where have you two been? We were beginning to think you'd stood us up."  
  
When Steve offered no explanation, Liv said, "We were…occupied and lost track of time."  
  
Keith snorted and walked away. Kenney gave them an odd look and said, "Well, you're here now. Have you been keeping in practice, O?"  
  
"I guess we'll find out, won't we," she said saucily.  
  
As they approached the firing line, Beechie stepped back and greeted them with a nod. When he removed his ear protectors and safety glasses, Liv asked him, "How are the kids feeling today, Beechie?"  
  
"A *lot* better, O, but Lou kept them out of school today just to be safe. I'm sorry we had to cancel dinner on you yesterday."  
  
"Not a problem, pal. Family first. Steve and I went to Indiana and visited the Jimmy Stewart museum. We had a good time."  
  
Steve and Liv put on some protective gear that Kenney had borrowed from other club members, and stepped up to the firing line. After a good many rounds, Steve was impressed with Olivia's accuracy with her .38. They took a break from shooting and went into the observation lounge to compare their scores. Hers was by far the best. The short, 2-inch barrel on her gun required a keen eye and a steady hand, yet with any target and at any reasonable distance, she managed to keep her shots in a grouping the size of a silver dollar. All three men presumably had more practice, and all were using weapons with longer barrels which improved their aim, and while their groupings were tight and orderly, none of them could aim as precisely as Liv. Steve's one consolation was that he did better than Beechie and Kenney.  
  
"Ok, Liv, how do you do it?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."  
  
"She doesn't have any idea," Kenney told him. "The first time she picked up that .38, she was a crack shot."  
  
"Well, now, Kenney, I wouldn't go that far," Olivia said. "I did need some practice."  
  
"Why am I not surprised?" Steve wondered aloud as if Olivia hadn't even spoken, and she made a face at him.  
  
Beechie winked, "Because that's the way she is with everything she does. If she's interested enough to try it, she's good at it."  
  
"She's a genuine genius, you know," Keith said sarcastically. "She skipped two grades."  
  
"Hello, guys, I'm right here," Olivia said. "You're being rude."  
  
"Yeah, she told me about that," Steve recalled with a grin, ignoring Olivia.  
  
"But I'll bet she didn't tell you everything," Beechie said.  
  
"Oh, well what do you think she left out?"  
  
"Well," Kenney began, "she played softball and volleyball. She was in choir, drama, and the church youth ministry."  
  
"I know," Steve confirmed, "and she waited tables at the diner, volunteered at the nursing home, and sang the national anthem at the games."  
  
"Guys, will you knock it off?" Liv pleaded.  
  
"She cleaned up around the sheriff's office for years, took all honors courses, and tutored me," Beechie added.  
  
"Hell, Beechie, she tutored half the football team," Kenney reminded him.  
  
"Kenney! Watch your language!"  
  
"So she did," Beechie recalled, talking over her reprimand.  
  
"She did a lot of other things for half the football team, too," Keith added with a wink.  
  
"Keith!" Olivia sounded mortified. "That's *not* true."  
  
"And she was a cheerleader, wasn't she?" Steve asked, ignoring Liv's protests, but giving Keith a look that said he was pushing too far in the wrong direction.  
  
"Oh, she was one hell of a cheerleader, all right," Keith agreed with a wicked grin.  
  
"Keith, I will kill you."  
  
"Jud told me about that," Steve said in a flat tone as he put his hands on his hips and faced Keith squarely. Keith met his angry stare, and Steve hoped Keith saw the threat there as plainly as he saw the challenge in Keith's eyes. If the man made one more crude comment about Liv, handicapped or not, Steve was going to deck him.  
  
Kenney, clueless as to what was passing between the two men, gave a derisive snort. "Dad actually thinks he knows what really happened. He doesn't have any idea."  
  
"And he better not ever find out, little brother," Keith warned, dropping his gaze.  
  
"That's enough! It's not like I don't have stories to tell on you guys."  
  
"You know, fellas, she's right," Beechie said seriously.  
  
"Yeah," Kenney agreed, "But they're not nearly as good. Besides, Keith, who's gonna tell Dad? Not you, not me, and I know O's afraid to."  
  
"You know, you've got a point, little brother."  
  
"So," Steve asked again, "what did Jud leave out?"  
  
"The reason they never caught O was that she didn't pull any of those pranks."  
  
"I know," Steve said, "but your dad said she had kids who were willing to do things for her. So, who did it?"  
  
Kenney looked from Beechie to Keith and when both men nodded, he told Steve, "See, that was the beauty of it. No one ever suspected that the victims of the pranks were also the chief perpetrators. Some of us football players did it all. It was the three of us, and Russ Hargrove, Jimmy Strawcutter, Harris and Cliff Redmond, Ted and Tom Baer, and Billy Daniels, but only because O bribed us with sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll."  
  
Steve burst into laughter.  
  
"Kenney!" Olivia gasped in shock. She reached out to swat him, and Beechie grabbed her hands.  
  
"Now, O," he said as if talking to an unruly child, "that would be assault on a police officer."  
  
"But--"  
  
"But he's only talking, you have no cause to hit him."  
  
She looked daggers at all of them and said, "I will get even."  
  
Keith took up the tale. "To be honest, it was more like cheerleaders, beer, and a few LP's, but to us, they were illicit pleasures made all the better because they were forbidden."  
  
"Now wait a minute," Liv interrupted, "Beechie bought the beer because he was the only one old enough. He'd been grandfathered in when the drinking age jumped from eighteen to twenty-one."  
  
"And who bankrolled me, O?"  
  
"Oh, well…uhh…"  
  
"Let me tell you about the party she threw when Jack 'The Ass' White finally conceded defeat," Kenney said.  
  
"That was one heck of a party," Beechie agreed.  
  
"It was a three-day weekend," Keith said.  
  
"Billy and Big Red were still hung over when we went back to school," Beechie recalled.  
  
"But the best part was seeing O get loaded. She'd never touched liquor before and we discovered she had a fondness for tequila," Kenney said.  
  
"Don't even go there, guys."  
  
Steve laughed, "Oh, no. Y'know, the night we met, she got sick from an alcohol-drug interaction. I never would have guessed there was so much in that little body for her to throw up. As I recall, it was a supposed to be a virgin margarita she was drinking, but the waiter messed up the order."  
  
"I don't have to stay here for this," Liv said as she put on her safety goggles and ear protection and went back out to the range. Steve stayed behind with the guys. It was the first time he had heard anything about her being a wild child. He was also hoping to get on better terms with these three men who seemed so important to Liv.  
  
"So, what happened?"  
  
Beechie and Kenney ceded the story to Keith.  
  
"The party was at that big old house where you're staying now. She'd told Mom and Dad it was going to be a sleepover for the cheerleaders, and they trusted her. She had three simple but effective rules and a huge fish tank full of piranhas. Rule number one: If you're drinking, you put your keys in the fish tank. Rule number two: The bar's downstairs and the party is upstairs; if you're too drunk to walk up and down the stairs for your booze and beer nuts, you quit drinking. Rule number three: If you can't get your keys out of the fish tank without getting bit, you can't drive home; wait an hour and try again. She also set up what she called a sobriety schedule among those of us who had our licenses so we always had someone able to drive to the emergency room if necessary."  
  
Steve was already laughing, and he knew they hadn't even gotten to the good part. "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard, and yet, it's Liv all over."  
  
Kenney chuckled, "Yep, O's in a class by herself, all right."  
  
Keith cleared his throat to signal for quiet and he began again. "Well, she had budgeted a *lot* of money for this party and had *no* had idea what the cost of booze was, so she just told Beechie to spend it all, and he did. He came back with more alcohol than I have ever seen in one place outside of a liquor store. He had beer, wine, Bailey's Irish Creme, Jack Daniels, Wild Turkey, gin, vodka, rum, a bunch of different mixers, scotch, several bottles José Cuervo tequila, a canister of salt, and a couple dozen limes. He had the usual party food, too, chips, dip, pretzels, peanuts, and ten pounds of the best Buffalo wings I have ever tasted, but the alcohol, man, that had us all bug-eyed.  
  
"Well, the party's going pretty good, and we're all having a helluva time, when Big Red and Straw decide it's about time to teach O to do tequila shots. At first, she refused, saying she couldn't even stand the beer and she couldn't imaging swallowing something even stronger, but they convinced her it was a completely different drink. Well, she downed that first shot, did the salt, and sucked on the lime just like they showed her. Then she let out a wail that made the prisms in the chandelier tinkle. 'Yeeeee- hahhhhh! I LIKE that stuff.'"  
  
The other three men burst into laughter at his impersonation. Through the window of the observation lounge, Steve saw Liv glance at the over her shoulder, then go back to shooting. After a few minutes, Keith continued.  
  
"Straw and Red were disappointed because they expected her to sputter and cough and pitch a natural-born fit, but the show we all got later more than made up for it. We watched her do four shots in fifteen minutes. It was too funny. She had this little cork-lined tray with a shot glass, a bowl of lime wedges, and a saltshaker on it. She'd run down to the bar, run back up, toss back the shot, salt, lime, 'Yeeeee-hahhhhh!' Then she'd do it all over again. On her fifth trip, she suddenly sat on the top step and stopped."  
  
"It all hit her at once," Steve guessed.  
  
"It hit her like a baseball bat between the eyes," Kenney said.  
  
Kenney, Keith, and Beechie dramatized the next scene. Kenney played Liv.  
  
"Uh, O? You all right?"  
  
"Noooooo," Kenney/O whined.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"The stairs came up to meet me?" Kenney/O sounded confused and pathetic.  
  
"Can you stand up?"  
  
Kenney/O slumped against the door, "Uh-uh. You're spinning, stop it."  
  
"It's not me. Your head is spinning from the booze."  
  
Kenney/O reached up and felt his head for a moment. "It is not. It's you. Stop it." This time the whine was more insistent.  
  
"Trust me, O, it really is you. You just can't tell because you're drunk."  
  
Kenney/O felt his head again, each touch becoming clumsier and more heavy- handed. Pat-pat-pat-whack-thump-thump-whack-thump-"Ow!"  
  
After a small eruption of laughter, Keith continued the tale.  
  
"I picked her up and carried her over to the couch. She couldn't have weighed but ninety pounds, and that's when I realized that she was still just a little girl. It was easy to forget she was only thirteen. She was so smart and so sociable, but most of all she had this charisma that just swept people up and carried them along like a strong current. She wasn't just one of the gang, she was the gang. Her personality was the net that originally pulled the rest of us together…"  
  
Keith interrupted himself, not sure what to say next.  
  
Steve encouraged him. "I know what you mean," he said, thinking of the Christmas party at CG. "She has this way of getting people to do anything she wants, and somehow, they end up liking it, even when it's totally out of character for them."  
  
Keith nodded. "That's exactly what I mean. You just can't say no to her."  
  
Having made his point, Keith was now able to continue his story. "Any way, it occurred to me that she could very easily get dangerously ill, so rather than sack out on the couch like I had planned, I made her stay up and walk around the living room. We were all going to take turns making her walk it off, but no one else ever got a turn. On the third circuit of the room, she started to get dizzy, and on the fourth lap, she broke away and started running for the bathroom.  
  
"There was this *big* potted plant in the corner of the room, and when she realized she wasn't going to make it down the hall to the toilet, she detoured. She grabbed the plant at the base and *ripped* it out of the pot." Keith dramatized this part of the story. "Then she puked in the flowerpot. She looked from the roots of the plant to the flowerpot and then looked around in confusion for a minute. She kept turning in circles, holding this poor plant with dirt dropping from the roots, looking for a place to put it down. We all watched her, not sure what she was going to do, and not knowing what to tell her. Finally, she shrugged and STUCK THE PLANT BACK IN THE POT!"  
  
There was another explosion of laughter. Keith waited patiently for it to end.  
  
Steve wiped laughing tears from his eyes and said, "I barely managed to stop her from doing the same thing. She was so sick the night we met. The next morning, when I told her about it, she said, 'Not again,' and when I asked her what she meant, she only told me that she had killed a potted plant years ago when she was drunk."  
  
Steve hadn't noticed the silence when he said, "…the night we met," and followed it with, "the next morning." He noticed it now. Kenney and Beechie looked uneasily from Steve to Keith several times in the dead silence.  
  
Keith shrugged.  
  
"Problem solved," he continued as if nothing had happened. "She went back to the couch and passed out. We kept a close eye on her and woke her up every so often, but judging but the quantity of liquid she had deposited in the flowerpot, we figured she would be ok. After a couple of hours, she woke up and begged me to take her to the hospital. She was convinced she was going to die. 'Ohhhhhh, Keith, I'm sooooo sick. Pleeease take me to the emergency room.' I told her she was in better shape now than she was before, and I reminded her that Mom or Dad would have to give consent to have her treated and that meant they would find out what we were all up to, but she kept insisting. Finally I gave in and told her I would drive her to the hospital if she could get my keys."  
  
Seeing where the story was headed, Steve started to laugh. "Your keys were in the fish tank, weren't they?"  
  
"Yep. I thought she'd have more sense than to try for them, but I was wrong. Now, this fish tank was enormous. You and I both could have climbed in it with room to spare. She got her stepstool out of the kitchen and pushed it up to the tank. She climbed up and tried to snatch the keys off the bottom of the tank, but her reach wasn't long enough. The piranhas were too small to do any serious damage, and there weren't that many of them, but they had needle sharp teeth. O lost her balance and dunked herself a time or two, and she took a few good nips before she got frustrated."  
  
"Oh-Oh," Steve chuckled.  
  
"That's a word for it," Keith agreed. "We went back to the poker game we'd been playing and unfortunately we forgot about O for a while. The next thing we knew, we heard this CRACK! Then there was the sound of rushing water and O screaming like a banshee. It sounded like the Apocalypse was upon us."  
  
"What did she do?"  
  
"She'd gone out to the garden shed, got a pickaxe, and busted the glass to get to my keys."  
  
Steve found himself laughing so hard his ribs hurt. It was several minutes before Keith could continue the story.  
  
"Between the tank, the fish and all the little doodads she had in there, she was out several thousand dollars. Then there was water damage to the floor and some of the furniture. The dirt from the potted plant turned to mud and ruined the rug. And the hell of it is, she NEVER FOUND MY KEYS. The car sat there for months until I sold it and she bought me a new one. Mom and Dad never did find out the truth. We told them it all happened while O was sleepwalking."  
  
Steve chuckled a bit. "I suppose it's a believable excuse. My uncle Stacey is a sleepwalker, and a few years ago, he became the prime suspect in a murder investigation because he kept showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had no idea, though, that Liv was so wild."  
  
"There's a lot you don't know, babe," Olivia said as she walked in.  
  
Kenney gave his brother a swat on the shoulder and said, "Hey, tell him about her senior road trip."  
  
"No!" Liv barked.  
  
"But O, it's a great story."  
  
"I know, Kenney, and it's my story. None of you were even there. I'll tell it when I'm darned good and ready, and it won't be any time soon." As she spoke, she tacked the silhouette target she had been shooting at to the bulletin board. The four men grew distinctly uncomfortable as they became aware that her tidy little grouping of shots was low between the target's legs.  
  
"Uh, Liv," Steve said nervously, "That's not scoreable."  
  
"It's not even close to a kill shot, O," Kenney told her.  
  
"You're supposed to go for the torso, O. The vital organs," Beechie elaborated.  
  
She turned and looked at her friends and asked seriously, "Are you saying it wouldn't stop any of you?"  
  
"Oh, it would stop us, all right," Keith confessed. Then he asked, "Is this your way of telling us to quit telling tales out of school?"  
  
She gave them all a sunny smile and said simply, "Yep."  
  
  
  
  
  
They spent another hour on the practice range, and while Steve's aim improved some with the strange weapon he was using, he was still embarrassed to compare his scores with Liv's. At least none of the other guys had bested her either. Finally, Kenney suggested that it was time they all head to the club to meet the gang.  
  
As she started the jeep, Olivia said, "You and Keith seem to be getting along all right."  
  
"Yeah, I guess we are," Steve agreed. "At least we haven't come to blows yet."  
  
"He really is a good guy, Steve."  
  
"Whatever. I didn't like the way he suggested that you did certain kinds of …favors… for the football team. That was nasty."  
  
"I don't know why he said that," Olivia said in a troubled tone. "The *only* thing I ever did for the football team was tutor them. Keith should know that better than anyone. I think he was just jerking your chain to see what you would do, sweetie. I think he wanted to know that you'd take up for me."  
  
Steve grunted, not really convinced, but not wanting to argue.  
  
  
  
In the other car, Beechie was starting the same sort of conversation.  
  
"I guess the beach bum's not so bad after all, huh?"  
  
"Well," Kenney said, "he's ok, for a beach bum."  
  
After a moment or two, Keith spoke up.  
  
"He'll take good care of her. He didn't let me get away with that football team comment."  
  
"Hey," Beechie said, "come to think of it, O's about the only girl we knew who *wouldn't* do anything for the football team. Why did you say that any way?"  
  
"I wanted to see what he'd do about it," Keith said flatly.  
  
"He didn't *do* much of anything, as far as I could tell," Kenney observed.  
  
"You didn't see the look in his eyes, did you? He'd have busted my face if I had made another crack. It's one thing to tease her, but he'll *never* let anybody hurt her."  
  
"So, are you saying you think he's all right?" Beechie asked.  
  
"I'll never *like* the SOB if that's what you're getting at, Beechie. I don't intend to try," Keith insisted with conviction. "But as long as he treats O right, I can act decent and keep the peace."  
  
"Just to make her happy?" Kenney asked.  
  
"Just to make her happy," Keith admitted. "That's all I've ever wanted, and if he can do what I couldn't, good for him, and better for O."  
  
  
  
Back in the jeep, the conversation had taken a different turn.  
  
"It sounds like you used to let your so-called friends take advantage of you a lot when you were a kid."  
  
"What do you mean, Steve?"  
  
"Well, like the party they were telling me about. They were content to let you buy the booze and the food and provide the location for the party, but when you got drunk, they just dumped you on the couch and went back to their card game."  
  
"Be fair, Steve," Olivia said seriously as she pulled up to a stop sign. "Don't judge a bunch of teenagers by the standards of a responsible adult. They pulled all those stunts that got me just what I needed to make Mr. White cave on the program issue. I owed them. And they didn't just 'dump' me on the couch. They couldn't keep me from getting sick, but they made sure I wasn't going to die." She chuckled, then and added, "And they made sure Jud didn't kill me."  
  
"You paid for that party, and you bought Keith a new car. You tutored the football team, and Keith would have me believe you did more. You *gave* Beechie a classic car for graduation. You set up Cloud Nine and the designated driver program. I know how much money you've sunk into this community. What did any of these people ever do for you?"  
  
"They let me be who I am, Steve, and they kept me alive when it would have been so much easier for everyone to let me die."  
  
When Steve didn't say anything, she continued.  
  
"Everyone you talk to will tell you about things I did as a kid." She slowed down as they entered a patch of woods. The road hadn't gotten much sun and it was still snowy. "They'll tell you what I accomplished and what a good person I am and how much good I've done for the community. None of them will tell you I never did any of it alone. Take the National Anthem thing, for example. No one will ever tell you that Mr. White wasn't going to let me sing at the basketball games. He said my wild behavior and apparent involvement in the football shenanigans set a bad example for the rest of the student body. It was ok for me to be a cheerleader, but he was not going to put me at the center of attention any longer."  
  
"What did you do about it, Liv?"  
  
"Not a thing." There was a smile in her voice as she explained. "As far as anyone knows, I still don't know what happened, but gossip spreads and the walls have ears. Both basketball teams, boys and girls, refused to play unless I sang the National Anthem. Ten minutes before the game, they still hadn't dressed out. He finally conceded."  
  
"That's proves you were popular, Liv, but what'd you mean when you said they kept you alive?"  
  
"They let me…they helped me…do…everything. Church and choir and volleyball and softball and drama and tutoring and Cloud Nine and…everything I did."  
  
Steve could hear her sniffling.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And I didn't do it for recognition or for concern for my fellow man. I didn't even do it because it was fun. My whole family died, Steve, and I was alive. I felt like I had to earn it, I had to do something to deserve it. Three times while I was in school, I tried to kill myself because I didn't feel I deserved to be alive. They visited me in the hospital and welcomed me back when I was better. They included me when it would have been so easy to get…weirded out by a suicidal friend."  
  
"You let them use you so you could stay with the in-crowd."  
  
"No more than I was using them. Keeping busy kept me from missing my family. It kept me from getting depressed and becoming suicidal. It made me feel like I was earning my keep. If they had freaked out and turned away from me, well…don't you think three suicide attempts in four years of high school is enough?"  
  
They had just pulled in to the club parking lot, and when the car stopped, Steve turned to face her. Putting a hand on her arm, he said, "Liv, I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" He trailed off, at a loss for words, but desperately wanting to say more.  
  
She put her hand over his and said, "It's all right, sweetie. They never did either. I wish I could explain it better, but when I was in that dark place, I couldn't talk about it, and now, I can't remember it well enough to describe what it was like. My life is good now, Steve, and I'm happy. After so many years, that's enough."  
  
Steve brought her hand to his lips for a kiss and said, "I'm sorry I didn't know you. I'd like to think I would have been there for you. But I'm so happy to be a part of your life now."  
  
"And I'm glad you're here," she said with a smile.  
  
Olivia leaned into the space between their seats for a kiss, and Steve was more than happy to oblige. The first meeting of their lips was sweet and chaste, but Olivia demanded more. Steve parted his lips to let her explore, and he caught his breath as her tongue probed his mouth. In a moment, they were both breathing heavily and their hands began searching for something to do.  
  
An ear splitting hammering startled them apart as Kenney suddenly drummed on the hood of the jeep.  
  
Olivia jumped and squealed, Steve cursed quietly.  
  
Kenney said, "Let's go, you two! Everyone else is here already. Don't forget your guitar, O. "  
  
Olivia grinned and shrugged and said, "We'll pick up where we left off when we get back to the house. I promise."  
  
Steve grinned back, "Good. I know you keep your promises."  
  
The club was really a honky-tonk called Boots. It was dimly lit, with a concrete floor, a small plywood platform that passed for a stage, and a corner with no tables that a few couples were using as a dance floor. Liv's friends made room for her and Steve, and she was pleased to see Keith offer Steve an empty seat beside him. She was even more delighted to see Steve accept with a smile. She knew the two hadn't really become fast friends, but if they would go through the motions for her, they might eventually hit it off.  
  
Steve could see why the club was popular. The drinks were cheap, most of the performers were good, and besides beer nuts and pretzels, you could actually order appetizers and a real meal. The table was already loaded with potato skins, cheese sticks, onion rings, and nachos; but Steve and Liv hadn't eaten since breakfast, and since both of them were starving, he ordered a steak and she got a roast beef sandwich.  
  
As they waited for their meals, Liv introduced him to her friends. In many of them, he could see the resemblance to the men he had met at the diner just a couple of days ago. Lou Crandoll, now Beech, sat in her husband's lap to make room at the table. She was a pretty, cheerful brunette and she could have passed for the triplet of her twin cousins Sophie and Sylvie Hargrove.  
  
"Your father," Steve said to the twins, "has one wicked sense of humor. He scared the crap out of me the other day."  
  
Everyone laughed. The story had apparently made the rounds already.  
  
Sylvie said, "He did the same thing to Billy…"  
  
"…and Harris," Sophie continued, "when we started…"  
  
"…dating." Sylvie finished the thought she had originated.  
  
Liv pointed to Sylvie and asked, "Billy Daniels?"  
  
Sylvie shook her head no and pointed to Sophie.  
  
Turning to Sophie, Liv asked, "As in Sheriff Rick Daniels' little brother?"  
  
Sophie nodded and said, "Our daughter Janie just turned six."  
  
Liv told Steve, "You met Rick the other day, remember?"  
  
"How could I forget? You really did a number on the poor guy."  
  
Sophie laughed, "Billy told me all about that. Liv, you amaze me."  
  
Liv asked Steve, "Do you remember the deputy behind the counter?"  
  
Steve closed his eyes to picture the man. "About five feet ten, auburn hair getting thin on top?"  
  
Liv nodded, "That's Billy."  
  
Turning to Sylvie, Liv said, "And you married Little Red, huh?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"I thought you always said he was too young for you."  
  
Sylvie laughed and said, "Well, he's not Little Red any more, Harris grew up." Winking at Liv and shooting a mischievous glance at her sister, she added, "And he still has all his hair."  
  
"Hey!" Sophie yelled, "If you're gonna pick on Billy, at least wait until he's here to defend himself."  
  
The whole crowd laughed, and Steve suddenly remembered the sheriff running a hand over his bald head in frustration.  
  
"Better, yet," Keith said with a grin that belied the hurt in his voice, "just quit picking. Some of us are a little sensitive."  
  
Kenney raked a hand through his dirty blonde hair and added, "And some of us are waiting for the other shoe to drop."  
  
"Aww," Sophie cooed, "don't worry, Ken. I can tell you from experience that some women find a bald head very sexy."  
  
"Not me," Sylvie disagreed, "I want something to hold on to during sex."  
  
"Sylvie!!!!" Her sister gasped in shock as several others at the table burst into laughter.  
  
"Sophie."  
  
Steve and Olivia's meals came, and they ate silently for a little while and let the rest of the group carry the conversation. Steve noticed the way they interacted. These people genuinely loved each other, and they were familiar with intimate details of one another's lives. The conversation centered on mostly mundane topics: work, school, church, children, and a shared history. Steve considered what Keith had told him about Liv pulling them all together, and he wondered how many marriages would not have happened and how many kids would not have been born if she hadn't been a part of their lives.  
  
As she finished her sandwich, Liv turned to another woman and said, "Alice, your dad and Mr. Redmond tell me you and Big Red have been a couple for a while now. In fact, they're expecting him to pop the question any time."  
  
A mousy-looking woman smiled shyly and said softly, "We've talked about that. He's going to ask for Daddy's blessing in about a year. He went through a nasty divorce a while ago and he wants to save enough for a down payment on a house before we get married."  
  
Liv introduced her to Steve. "Steve, Alice Strawcutter. Alice, Steve Sloan."  
  
The woman's smile was warm and friendly, but her handshake was like a wet dishrag.  
  
"Well, I think you two suit each other, Alice. You'll make a good couple. I'm happy for you."  
  
Alice blushed and said, "Thanks, O. You tried to tell us that twenty years ago. We should have listened."  
  
Liv shook her head, "Don't regret the past, you had to take that path to get where you are now. I hear you're starting your own design business, and you might not have had that opportunity if you two had gotten married right out of high school."  
  
Alice nodded, "You're right, but I just wish things hadn't been so hard on him."  
  
With sincere concern on her face, she asked the quiet woman, "Why? What happened, Alice?"  
  
Before the mouse could answer, a buxom blonde in a cowboy hat and a flannel shirt said, "His wife was the biggest ho' in Pittsburgh. About six years ago, Pops got sick with a brain tumor and Cliffie had to come home and help me run the hardware store. He was gone less than two weeks before the tramp moved her boyfriend into their house and filed for divorce. Cliffie was too busy here running the store and sitting with Pops to fight it properly, so he let her take him to the cleaners. At least he doesn't have to pay alimony. She's married and screwed over two more guys since Cliffie."  
  
Liv laughed and rolled her eyes and said, "Steve, this is Sue Redmond, Cliff's sister. Don't hold back, Sue, tell us what you really think."  
  
Sue waved Olivia off and said, "I've had my say. I'm done now." Looking at Steve, she apologized. "I'm sorry if I came on a little strong, but she messed my brother up bad, and I have nothing good to say about her."  
  
Shaking her hand, Steve said, "Don't worry about it. My sister had a difficult marriage and I know how you feel."  
  
"So," Liv asked looking around, "where are Chris and Beck?"  
  
The whole group tried to answer at once, but Lou Beech whistled through her teeth for silence and then answered Olivia.  
  
"Beck married Alice's brother Jimmy, O. They have a B&B and a small farm in Gettysburg, and she's a tour guide at the battlefield. Chris's a hospital pharmacist in Pittsburgh, and she's dating a doctor." Lou lowered her voice and said, "Would you believe it's another woman?"  
  
The silence around the table became suddenly uneasy and even Steve was anxious to see what would come next.  
  
Liv smiled and said, "Yeah, I would. Chris told me she was gay our junior year."  
  
"And you never…"  
  
"…told us?" the twins asked in shock.  
  
Liv shrugged. "It wasn't my place."  
  
"O," Alice said, "we had sleepovers at your place."  
  
"And we all changed in the locker room together," Sue added.  
  
"So?"  
  
"We had a right to know, O." Lou insisted. "How could you keep a secret like that from us?"  
  
"My God, O…" Sophie gasped.  
  
"…she saw us all naked," Sylvie finished.  
  
Sarcastically, Liv said, "Anybody who had Chris Breth jump your bones, please raise your hand." When no one did, she threw her hands in the air and said, "Gee, I guess it wasn't a problem."  
  
"But, O," Lou said, "don't you think it's a bit…unnatural?"  
  
Liv pursed her lips in thought for a minute, then asked her friend, "Lou, did you fall in love with Arnold Beech, or did you fall in love with Arnold Beech's gonads?"  
  
Lou gasped, Beechie laughed, Steve beamed, the rest murmured nervously. Finally, blushing, Lou said, "I beg you pardon?"  
  
Liv spoke in a gentle voice, trying to soften the shock she had caused. "Look, Lou, guys, all of you. Love is something that happens between two people, not two sets of genitalia. If what you find in someone's soul makes your heart go pit-a-pat, who cares what kind of equipment they're operating? Chris is still Chris, you just know more about her than you did twenty years ago. If you're really her friends, you'll be happy that she's happy."  
  
There was a long silence at the table. Steve had never been prouder of anyone.  
  
Slowly, heads began to nod and expressions changed. Lou spoke first, "Chris waited a long time for the right person. I hear her…girlfriend…really treats her well."  
  
Sue said, "I think her name is Jennifer. I know she's a neurosurgeon."  
  
Beechie slapped his hands together and said, "Well, we'll all get to meet her this weekend. O, Lou and I are inviting you and Steve and everyone to our place for a little welcome home party. The other day, she called Chris, and Beck and told them you were in town, and before we knew it, we were planning a reunion. We were thinking maybe Saturday afternoon?"  
  
"You have got to be kidding me!"  
  
Beechie shook his head. "Nope. At last count we had about twenty-five, maybe thirty people coming."  
  
"Beechie, Lou, that's so sweet. Thank you! Are Tom and Meg going to be there?"  
  
The table fell silent again, and Liv looked from one person to another before closing her eyes as if in pain. Steve couldn't figure out what had happened, but he guessed that Tom and Meg would not be welcome.  
  
"We did invite them, O, but they weren't sure they should come, so they declined."  
  
Kenney gave a snort, "Good decision on their part."  
  
"Ken," Keith warned.  
  
"I'm with Kenney," Sue Redmond said.  
  
"Yeah," Sophie, or maybe Sylvie said, Steve had forgotten who was who. "Really, there's just…"  
  
"…too much bad blood," the other twin finished.  
  
Liv looked to Keith and asked, "What do you think?"  
  
Keith chewed his lower lip a moment before answering. Then he said, "They're not Ted. They didn't do anything. I haven't spoken much to either of them in years, but…I guess they're still my friends."  
  
Liv nodded and said, "Thanks. Beechie, Lou, if you don't mind, I'm going to call and invite them myself. I want to see them."  
  
Beechie and Lou nodded.  
  
"Then you should go visit them," Alice said with more feeling than Steve thought the woman possessed.  
  
"Look," Liv said with conviction, "Meg was one of us. She was Cloud Nine, and Tom went through everything with us. If we're going to have a reunion, they should be there, too. If any of you can't deal with that, if you can't make them feel welcome, then stay home. No friend of mine would shut them out because of what their brother did."  
  
Steve's pride grew tenfold. His Olivia was a remarkable woman.  
  
"O, after what Ted did…"  
  
"Sue, you just said it. It's what *Ted* did, not Tom, and not Meg; and while we're on the subject, you would do well to remember that Ted is ill, not evil."  
  
"You still want to believe that, don't you?"  
  
"Soph…"  
  
"Stop!" Beechie cut in. "Keith, are you ok with them being there?"  
  
Keith thought a moment, looked at Liv, and said, "If O wants them there, that's ok with me."  
  
"You want them to come, right, O?"  
  
She nodded, "Yes. Definitely."  
  
"It's my house," Beechie said, "and I don't mind. Lou, it's your home, too, what do you say?"  
  
Now it was Lou's turn to think things over. She looked from Liv to Keith, and Steve saw Keith nod slightly.  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, it's up to O. This party is for her."  
  
"Then it's settled," Beechie said. "No one else gets to vote. Come or stay home, the discussion is over. Olivia, call them and let them know you want to see them there."  
  
Olivia wiped a tear from her cheek and said, "Thanks, Beechie, Lou. Thank you, Keith."  
  
After a strained silence, Kenney piped up with, "Hey, O. The mike's open and you have your guitar. Give us a song!"  
  
"Oh, I don't know, Kenney. It's getting late…"  
  
Her protests were drowned out as her friends called, "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  
  
The one syllable nickname filled the club and got the attention of all the other patrons. Olivia couldn't be heard above the chant, so she had to get her guitar and go to the mike.  
  
She stared into the spotlight. "All right, you can hush now. I'm up here."  
  
There was a smattering of applause.  
  
She looked around and said, "There are some familiar faces out there. I'm sorry I don't recall all your names, but twelve years is a long time." She pitched her voice low, and as she spoke softly into the mike, the crowd quieted, creating a feeling of intimacy in the room. Liv knew how to handle an audience.  
  
"I've brought a friend with me," she continued, nodding to Steve as she tuned her guitar, "the big guy with the great California tan. Stand up, Steve."  
  
Blushing, Steve stood halfway and waved to the crowd as they applauded him.  
  
"Is there anybody here with a trumpet tonight?"  
  
A young man waved and Olivia invited him up on stage. She spoke to him a moment away from the mike, and when he nodded, she turned back to the crowd. "Before I begin this set, and it will be a short one, I would ask all of you to remember that Steve is from LA. This is an opportunity for us rednecks to make a good impression on some city slicker, so please, don't throw your peanut shells on the floor, order something other than pickled pigs' feet, and quit making out with your cousins." She played a few bars of Dueling Banjos, and while the rest of the audience chuckled, Steve nearly collapsed with laughter. He got a few odd looks, but decided there would be plenty of time to explain later.  
  
After a few seconds, she pointed at some guy down front and said, "You, get that key out of your ear. Don't you know it's not polite to scratch like that in public?"  
  
More laughter.  
  
"Earlier this evening, some of my so-called friends told Steve about the first time I met Al."  
  
When the audience muttered in confusion, she finished the thought with a smile. "Cohol."  
  
The people at Steve's table laughed, and Keith, Kenney, and Beechie grinned.  
  
"It's kind of ironic that they would choose that story of all things, because coincidentally, the night I met Steve, I got sick from a combination of pain medication for a sprained ankle and a fouled up drink order that had alcohol in it when there should have been none."  
  
There were some sympathetic moans from the crowd.  
  
"I must have blacked out, because the next morning I woke up in his bed, wearing his pajamas, with no recollection of who he was or how I'd gotten there. Those of you who really know me know nothing happened, and as for those of you who don't know me, I could not care less if you believe me. Steve, sweetie, maybe this is 'our' song."  
  
She cued her trumpet player, and he blasted a few notes, then she started singing a song about some woman who had too drunk too much tequila and woke up in a stranger's bed, wearing his clothes. She couldn't recall what she had done the previous night, and she kept calling Jose Cuervo "mi amigo." It was an amusing song, and while everyone in the club enjoyed it, Steve and Liv's friends could not stop laughing. It too closely paralleled actual experiences they'd had with her.  
  
She wound up with, "I had too much tequila last night."  
  
She and the guy with the trumpet played a few more bars, and as the music ended, Liv stepped back from the mike and squalled, "Yeeeee-hahhhhh! I LIKE that stuff!!!"  
  
Her friends stood up, each of them held his or her arms in a circle overhead, and the all yelled, "OOOOOOOOOOO," until they ran out of air. When Steve looked at them in confusion, Sue Redmond told him, "It's a standing 'O'-vation."  
  
Steve laughed. It was becoming clear where Olivia had gotten her peculiar sense of humor. She gave her trumpet player a chance to take a bow, then she went back to the mike.  
  
Doing a passable imitation of Elvis, she said, "Thank you. Thankyouvery, muuuch."  
  
She allowed a chuckle from the crowd before she continued, saying, "My brother Andy was a huge Elvis fan. This was always one of his favorite songs."  
  
She did an energetic rendition of "You Ain't Nothin' but a Hound Dog" that had several couples out of their seats and dancing.  
  
This time there was much applause and cheering. After a few moments, she spoke again, using that low, intimate voice. "You're too kind. Andy played and sang Elvis much better than I ever could, but most of you know that. It's been a long time since I've been up here doing this. I've forgotten how much fun it is."  
  
"Welcome home, O," cried one of the patrons Steve hadn't met.  
  
"You know, I just realized something," she said as she pulled over a stool to sit on.  
  
Another voice from the crowd called out, "What's that?"  
  
"If you stop interrupting, I'll tell you." The audience chuckled. "Well, I was sitting at the table with my friends catching up on who has or is soon going to marry whom."  
  
"And?" the voice from the crowd prompted.  
  
Liv shot a look of good-natured exasperation into the darkness in the general direction of her heckler.  
  
"And, it has occurred to me that they have all hooked up with each other's brothers and sisters."  
  
"So?"  
  
A balled up napkin and a roll soared through the air in the direction of the voice.  
  
"So, who are their children going to date? They're all going to be related."  
  
When her remark met with silence, Liv played a few more bars of 'Dueling Banjos,' and the crowd laughed at the implication.  
  
"Anyway," she fiddled with her guitar and played a few chords and said in that low sexy voice she used on stage, "I usually don't play current hits. It's a lot harder to tell how bad I sound if it's been a few years since you've heard the song…"  
  
The crowd interrupted her with a laugh. They enjoyed her self-deprecating humor. She was, in fact, quite a talented singer and musician with a great deal of stage presence.  
  
"…but this is my new favorite song. I'm sure you've heard it. I just love it so much because…well, it's my life's story. It celebrates the challenges God gives us, and rejoices in the strength to overcome them. It's called 'Bring on the Rain' by Jo Dee Messina."  
  
She closed her eyes and strummed some simple chords as she sang. It might not have had the polish of a professional album, but Steve thought it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard.  
  
"Tomorrow's another day, and I am not afraid. Bring on the rain…"  
  
There was a moment of silence as she finished, then the audience exploded into enthusiastic cheers. She smiled shyly, and Steve saw her swipe at a tear. Then she brightened.  
  
"Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed that. You know, tradition demands that I try out some new material on this crowd."  
  
Somebody yelled, "Woo-Hoo!"  
  
"Wait a minute now, you haven't heard any of my original stuff in a while. Memories tend to soften around the edges of an unpleasant reality."  
  
The audience laughed.  
  
"Well, a few weeks ago, I went camping in the Cascade Mountains in Northern Washington State. I didn't see or speak to another soul for the whole week I was there. That was part of the plan; I needed to think. Most of you know what I'm like when I have something on my mind."  
  
Steve heard a number of knowing murmurs.  
  
"I spent a lot of time out there…wayyyyyyy out there," she paused for a laugh.  
  
"I spent a lot of time considering where I came from, where I was going, and just how the heck I got where I was. Eventually, a whole lot of things fell into place all at once, and this song is what came out of it. It's called 'My Heart Will Always Come Home to You.' It's kind of long, but then, if you know me, you know how I can milk a story."  
  
The crowd laughed.  
  
"Songs aren't much different. Here we go."  
  
She hung her head and her copper curls fell over her face. She started playing a rapid succession of chords, and Steve could see her quickly losing herself in the music. The crowd didn't exist, her friends disappeared, he faded away. It was just Olivia and her song. In the silence of a rest, she started singing in a high-pitched wail:  
  
Every now and then, I go just a little bit crazy.  
  
Once in a while, I have to run away.  
  
So, I hit the open road to see what's out there for me,  
  
Hoping maybe I can find a better way to live.  
  
But don't you go thinking that I have up and left you, no.  
  
'Cause it don't matter where this rutted road might lead,  
  
Before I reach the end of my troubled journey,  
  
My heart will tell me where I ought to be.  
  
And where ever I go,  
  
And whatever I do,  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
The crowd was getting into the driving beat, and Olivia was nodding her head to the rhythm. Steve watched her curls bounce, and wanted nothing more than to comb them out with his fingers. He'd heard her sing before, and he loved her voice, but somehow, now that the song was her own, it acquired a special kind of energy.  
  
I've found I like to travel in the rain,  
  
'Cause the sunshine, you know, can leave you blind.  
  
And when the stars come out at night it's like a dream.  
  
You never know just what you might find.  
  
But don't you go thinking that I have up and left you, no.  
  
'Cause it don't matter where I rest my worried head,  
  
Before I reach the end of my weary journey,  
  
My heart will show me where I should be instead.  
  
And where ever I go,  
  
And whatever I do,  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
Keith closed his eyes and sighed and let the rhythm swallow him whole. It felt so good. O was home, and everything was the way it always should have been. He could close his eyes and imagine she was singing to him. In his mind, the years slipped away, and they were kids again, just out of school and facing the real world with the exuberance of the young. Nothing bad had happened yet. He knew it wasn't real, but it was enough for now.  
  
  
  
When the night is cold and the road gets old  
  
And I know I've been on the run too long,  
  
You light my darkness until dawn.  
  
When I've lost my place and I've had my space,  
  
And my body aches for your embrace,  
  
You are my shelter from the storm.  
  
  
  
With a flash of anger, Kenney realized she had probably written the song for Steve. It should have been Keith's song. As he looked at the 'beach bum,' though, his anger softened. Steve was watching O like she was the only living thing in the world. He had to admit, the man loved her, and he would make her happy. If Keith was ok with it, hell, who was he to complain?  
  
Yeah,  
  
Every now and then, I go just a little bit crazy.  
  
Once in a while, I have to run and hide.  
  
So, I catch the freeway or ride a lazy river,  
  
Still knowing just where my true heart abides.  
  
So, don't you go thinking that I have up and left you, no.  
  
'Cause it don't matter where I cease this futile flight,  
  
Before I reach the end of my frantic journey,  
  
My heart will bring me right back to your side.  
  
And where ever I go,  
  
And whatever I do,  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
  
  
Beechie smiled. Once upon a time, he thought wanted O more than anything in the world. He'd hoped he could impress her by staying in school, but she just kept pushing him toward her friend Lou. Now, he had a better life than he could ever have dreamed, and he owed it all to this wild creature. He was glad she had rejected him. He would have tried to tame her, and that would have ruined everything. This way, he still had his beautiful, madcap friend, and he also had a loving, supportive wife and two wonderful kids. He had to thank God for leaving his adolescent prayers unanswered.  
  
  
  
Every now and then, I go just a little bit crazy.  
  
Once in a while, I slip around the bend, but  
  
Before I reach the end of my twisted journey,  
  
My heart'll have me back in your loving arms again.  
  
And where ever I go,  
  
And whatever I do,  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
She looked up as she started the final chorus, caught Steve's eye and smiled. Steve suddenly realized that she had written this song for him. He smiled back, knowing now what she hadn't been able to tell him before. Her place was with him; he was her home.  
  
Never doubt it,  
  
You know it's true.  
  
Keith was shocked when she looked at him and smiled. Who the hell was this song for anyway? He looked at the big beach bum beside him and saw he was smiling back at O. The guy didn't even realize that she wasn't really looking at him.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
Kenney and Beechie saw O look at the space between Keith and Steve and smile. They could tell from the reactions they saw that each man thought she was looking at him. Beechie and Kenney exchanged a look, and silently agreed to straighten out the mess she had created before things got ugly. They would not let O be hurt by the other two competing for her affections.  
  
A tall bearded man slouched in shadows at the back of the club. He'd been nursing the same drink all night, waiting for her to sing, and when she finally went to the mike, he was not disappointed.  
  
My heart will always come home to you.  
  
When she looked up and smiled at him, Ted knew this was his song. She had written it for him. She loved him, and her heart had brought her home to him.  
  
As the song ended and the applause began, Olivia did the strangest thing. She slipped off the stool she was seated on, stumbled back against it, rolled her eyes back into her head, and collapsed. For a moment the audience laughed, thinking it was a gag, pretending to be overwhelmed by their enthusiastic response to her work. When she didn't move, a dozen people surged forward to help her. No one saw Ted slouch out the door and slip off into the night.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Liv, sweetie, you in there?" Steve was kneeling on the stage, supporting her head and shoulders in his lap. Keith was seated at her feet, massaging them gently. The rest of her friends had formed a concerned circle around her, giving her privacy from curious strangers.  
  
"Ohhhh."  
  
"Take it easy, love. You're all right. You just fainted."  
  
She sat up and clutched his arm in a viselike grip.  
  
"TED. He was in here…watching me."  
  
"Son of a BITCH," Keith exploded. "I will KILL him."  
  
He struggled to get up, but Liv leaned forward and grabbed his arm.  
  
"No, Keith, stay here. As he sees it, you and Steve are the only people between him and me. Let Beechie and Kenney check it out. He doesn't see them as competition, so they'll be safe, and I won't have to worry."  
  
Keith looked desperately at his brother and friend and said, "If you find him, take…him…out."  
  
Both men nodded and headed off to look for Ted. The circle closed ranks around Liv. Someone brought a glass of water, and Steve insisted she drink half of it before her let her stand up.  
  
Kenney came back and told the group, "We tracked him for about half a block. Those big footprints are unmistakable in the snow. Then he crossed to the other side of the street, and since the sidewalk there gets the morning sun, there's no snow left to leave prints." Looking at Lou, he said, "Beechie's calling it in from your jeep."  
  
Lou nodded.  
  
"Liv," Steve said. "The holiday's over, and, after this, I think we should get a room in town now."  
  
Her eyes sparked angrily and she said, "No way. For the last time, I am not running from him any more…but maybe…" her voice softened, "…you should go back to LA, Steve."  
  
He grabbed her upper arms and turned her to face him directly. "I meant it when I said I want to be with you forever. Wherever you go, I'll be there, too. I love you. You are my life. If you stay, I stay. End of discussion."  
  
Liv nodded. Keith turned and walked away. Kenney followed Keith and put a hand on his shoulder, but Keith waved his brother off. As Kenney returned to the group, Liv took a step toward Keith, but Kenney stopped her with a hand on her arm.  
  
"He wants to be alone. He'll be ok."  
  
She nodded, turned to Steve, and said, "Take me home."  
  
That night, as he cradled Liv protectively against his chest and counted her nightmares, Steve made up his mind. He had seen enough to know what he wanted. Olivia was truly everything he had ever dreamed of and more. More than anything on earth, he wanted her. He would figure out a way to find out if she was ready, then, if she was, he would propose. Soon. 


	36. Fun and Games

Chapter 36. (February 5. Still in Pennsylvania.)  
  
"I'm not going to talk about it, May."  
  
It was only seven. May had called, frantic, to say that she had just heard about the incident at the club last night.  
  
"He was there then he was gone," Liv said. "Steve and I are watching each other's backs, and that's the end of it…Not another word about it, May…A game?…Against Saint Mary's? That will be a good one…He called you to ask me to sing?…Wow…Ok, May, tell him I'll do it…Yeah…Sounds good. We'll meet you at the diner around five and then we can all go over to the game together…Uh-huh…Love you, too…Bye."  
  
Liv hung up the phone and turned to Steve. "The day is ours, babe, then we're meeting May and Jud for dinner before we go to the basketball game. We have to get there early because I'm singing, and it's a big game. Is there anything you'd particularly like to do today?"  
  
Steve stretched and scratched his head.  
  
"I don't know. What did you have planned?"  
  
"Nothing." Liv thought a moment. "It's supposed to be a nice day. Maybe we can go somewhere."  
  
"Like where?"  
  
"Well, there's a railroad museum in Altoona, and a model railroad museum in Gibsonia. I know you're interested in trains. If we go to Gibsonia, we'll be just outside of Pittsburgh and we can always find more to do in the city. Altoona's kind of a one-horse town. When we finished the museum, the only thing left to do would be come back here. They're both about two hours away. Penn State's about two and a half hours. I know they have an art museum and an anthropology museum and the best ice cream in the world. It's been a while since I've been there, but it might be cool to visit."  
  
"Let me think about it a little, sweetie," Steve said. "Why don't you get your shower, and I'll decide before you're done."  
  
Liv shrugged, "Ok, whatever. But remember, we're talking four or five hours on the road if we go anywhere, and we *have* to be back by five."  
  
"I know, I know. I'll be ready to go wherever by eight."  
  
Steve had already decided they'd go to Penn State the moment he'd seen Liv's eyes light up when she mentioned it. He'd make sure they went to one of the railroad museums another day, but now, he just wanted her out of the room. He picked up the phone and called information.  
  
When the operator asked for a name and city, he said, "Judson and May Stephens, Punxsutawney."  
  
The operator found the number and connected the call.  
  
"Stephens's," May's voice answered cheerfully.  
  
"Hi, May, it's Steve Sloan."  
  
"Oh, hey, Steve! I was just talking to Livvie. What's up?"  
  
"She's in the shower and I have to talk fast. This is a secret, ok?"  
  
"O-o-o-ok," May said cautiously, not knowing what she was getting into.  
  
"Considering Liv's past with your son, I'll understand if you say no, but I'm really hoping you'll say yes."  
  
"To what?"  
  
"Well, a while ago, Liv and I were talking about marriage. She stopped me before I could actually ask the question, though, because she felt she still had too many secrets she was hiding from me. After visiting the site of the fire and seeing what happened last night, I want to be with her more than ever. I want to always be there for her, whatever happens."  
  
"So you're planning to propose soon."  
  
"I hope so, but if she's not ready, or if she's having second thoughts about me, I don't want to put her in the situation of having to say no. I'm actually afraid she might say yes to something she doesn't really want just to spare my feelings."  
  
The water shut off, and Steve listened carefully as she started running the blow dryer. He figured he had about three minutes.  
  
May sighed. "Steve, if she doesn't marry you, I will. That is the most sensitive thing I have ever heard a man say. What do you want me to do?"  
  
Steve grinned into the phone and said, "Talk to her tonight at the game. I'll make sure Jud and I go get some snacks or something. Find out if she'll say yes and give me some kind of a sign. If I don't see it, I won't ask her."  
  
May said, "Ok, I can do that, and I'll make sure Jud knows he's supposed to leave when you ask him to join you."  
  
Steve heard the blow dryer shut off in the bathroom. "Thanks, May. She's done in the bathroom. Gotta go. Bye."  
  
He hung up before she could respond, but he guessed she'd understand.  
  
Steve climbed out of the bed, shucked his pajamas, and slipped his robe on. He was headed into the bathroom as Olivia came out fully dressed, and he engulfed her in an enormous bear hug. As she drew back from the hug, she laughed at him and asked, "What was that for?"  
  
"I just find you irresistible. I've decided I'd like to go to the college. It sounds like there's a lot we can do there without having to drive too far or fight city traffic. We can save the train museums for another day when we're not so pressed for time."  
  
"Ok. I'll fix breakfast while you shower. Meet you downstairs in a few minutes."  
  
Steve turned the shower on before going to the secret passage Liv had showed him. It took him a moment to figure out how to get it open, but then he carefully and quietly crept down the ladder to the basement. Going through the basement to the wine cellar, he went straight to the green racks and chose a nice champagne. He had to hand it to Meyer Goldstein, even the stuff he considered cheap and 'for drinking' was expensive. Steve never would have been comfortable purchasing the bottle he hoped to share with Liv that night.  
  
At the bar in the rumpus room, he got two champagne flutes and an ice bucket before sprinting back through the basement. He hadn't considered how he was going to carry his prizes back to the bedroom, and as he struggled up the ladder, each item nearly went crashing back to the basement at least once. His trophies safely tucked away in the fridge in the gym, he called May again and arranged for Jud to pick up a dozen roses and hide them away with the champagne and glasses. He promised he'd come up with a good excuse to give them to Liv if May told him it was a bad time to propose.  
  
Finally, he jumped in the shower, soaped and rinsed in ten seconds flat (which was no challenge because the water had gone cold), dried his hair, brushed his teeth, threw on some clothes, and was downstairs in under five minutes.  
  
The visit to Penn State was a lot of fun, but Steve had to admit, seeing so many young people all in one place made him feel old. Because of her diminutive size and boundless energy, however, Liv fit right in, and that made Steve feel even older. The campus was gorgeous and sprawling, and Liv was a veritable font of information. They parked near the HUB, which Liv said was an acronym for the Hetzel Union Building, and headed west with Liv spewing Penn State facts all the way.  
  
"One in eight Pennsylvania college graduates one in 122 Americans with a college degree is a Penn State alum. With almost 150,000 active members, the Penn State Alumni Association is the largest dues-paying alumni organization in the nation."  
  
"Are you a member?"  
  
"Yep." She took out her wallet and said, "See my card?"  
  
"This place is enormous, Liv."  
  
She laughed and started babbling again. "At any one time, the Pennsylvania State University System has over 80,000 full- and part-time students, and over half of them are right here at University Park. The College of Medicine enrolls five to six hundred students, and The Dickinson School of Law about five hundred and fifty. The Pennsylvania School of Technology has five or six thousand students, and the rest are distributed among some twenty other campuses throughout the state. Penn State gets about 40,000 first year applicants every fall."  
  
Impressed with the figures, Steve gave a low whistle of appreciation.  
  
They had walked through the HUB and out the other side. As the walked past a post office on the ground floor of a classroom building, she said, "Oh, Mike the Mailman's still here! We'll have to buy a postcard and mail it to your dad."  
  
"I take it this Mike is someone special?"  
  
"He's an institution. Makes people feel at home. He's wonderful."  
  
They walked up the small hill by the post office and turned onto Pollock Road. As they strolled along, she told him more about the school.  
  
Indicating the building to their left, she said. "That's Old Main, the main administrative building. The original was completed in 1863. A fire partially destroyed the roof in 1892, but the damage was repaired. Eventually, the building was declared uninhabitable, and it was torn down in 1929. This building opened in 1930."  
  
"You really love this place, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah. It was probably the happiest time in my life…"  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"…until I met you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
By this time, they had passed Old Main, and she was prattling on about something else. Steve just admired the scenery and nodded and smiled, enjoying her company and the unexpectedly warm day.  
  
"Schwab Auditorium. I had 1,000 students in my freshman psych class here."  
  
"Sounds like you were just another number, huh?"  
  
"In some ways, yeah, I guess so."  
  
Suddenly, Olivia stopped. An odd expression crossed her face, and she whispered, "My God, he's still here."  
  
She seemed so overcome that Steve reached for his weapon, fearing that Ted had somehow followed them to the college, but she put a hand on his arm and grinned.  
  
"No, Steve, just listen. Do you hear him?"  
  
"Him who, Liv?"  
  
"Listen! Hear that voice?"  
  
Steve listened, and after a moment, he heard a high pitched male voice shouting, "If you spend your time here fornicating and getting drunk instead of seeking out God and doing his will, you're going to hell."  
  
"Are you talking about the crazy guy yelling about going to hell?"  
  
Liv laughed, and said, "He's not crazy. He's called the Willard Preacher because he preaches at Willard Building. He's been there since before I was a student. Arguing with him is one of the top twenty-five things to do at Penn State."  
  
"You've got to be kidding."  
  
"Actually, I've gone several rounds with him myself. Never did win, but a couple of times we had decent conversations and he actually taught me a thing or two."  
  
"He ought to be locked up for being a public nuisance."  
  
Olivia gave him a quizzical look and said, "He's protected under the First Amendment, and he's not hurting anyone, Steve."  
  
By now the man was ranting about homosexuals and fornicators. "After what we've been doing in your bed, and after the stand you took last night, are you telling me you're ok with what he's saying?"  
  
"Not exactly, Steve," she said softly, trying to soothe him. "But everything he's saying is in the Bible, and unless you're going to burn the constitution, he's got the right to say it."  
  
"So, you believe the lesbian friend you defended last night is going to hell, huh?"  
  
"I don't know, but if you want to stop tearing me a new butt-hole and listen for a minute, I can tell you what I do believe."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I believe Chris is violating Old Testament laws. So are we. We have chosen to sin. The spirit is willing, I guess, but the flesh is weak."  
  
Steve threw his hands in the air and started to walk away. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."  
  
Olivia chased after him and grabbed one of his arms. "LET ME FINISH!"  
  
She was so adamant that Steve froze in his tracks. "Do you honestly believe our relationship is sinful?"  
  
"Promise me you'll stay right here and hear me out until I tell you I'm finished?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"The Olivia that you know, the one who's traveled Europe and lived in Pittsburgh, New York, Chicago, and Baltimore and now LA, the Olivia who had to shoot one of her best friends in self defense on two different occasions, the Olivia who's been going to bed with you every night, can't imagine how what we're doing could be wrong between two consenting adults, especially when it feels so very right. She can't believe it could be a sin for two people to make each other so happy and love each other so much. She figures if God really has a problem with it, then it's up to him to do something about it."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I'm *not* finished."  
  
He waited.  
  
"But there's another Olivia, Steve. She's still inside me, and she will not be deceived. She went to a little white Methodist church in the woods, and she prepared devotions for the youth ministry. She sang in the choir, volunteered in the nursing home, bussed tables at the church dinners, and read the Bible for her daddy from cover to cover. She buried her whole family on a lonely, windswept hilltop, and planted weeping willows down by the river in their memory. Because of the way she was raised, that Olivia fervently believes that the Bible is the word of God and that God says what we are doing is wrong."  
  
Steve started to argue that the Bible was over two thousand years old and certain things could not possibly apply to life in the new millennium, but she covered his mouth and insisted, "I AM NOT FINISHED."  
  
He closed his mouth.  
  
"'For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away. But the word of the Lord endureth forever.' 1 Peter 1:24-25. Steve, what we are and what we want is temporary, but the law of God is eternal."  
  
She ran her fingers through her wild curls and sighed. Clearly, she was getting herself lost in her own arguments. She closed her eyes, pressed her palms together, and placed fingertips against her lips. Taking a deep breath, she held it a moment, exhaled, and looked at him. All the confusion was gone from her eyes.  
  
"I cannot reconcile both sets of beliefs, Steve. I don't try. But I have found one thing that works here and now, and for the person I was twenty years ago. 1 John 1:9. 'If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.'"  
  
Steve didn't try to interrupt this time.  
  
"I know you, Steve, because I see myself in you. Sex isn't just for fun; it's forever. It's love. We wouldn't be together if we didn't expect it to last. When we admit that we put the cart before the horse and ask for forgiveness, God will say, 'You are forgiven.' He knows we're human, he knows we're flawed, and if we admit it, he will forgive us. Always."  
  
After a pause she said, "I'm finished now."  
  
"That works for you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"What about the thirteen-year-old Olivia who did four shots of tequila in fifteen minutes and puked in a flower pot? Where does she fit in? And how does the Olivia who tried to commit suicide four times justify her actions, or the Olivia who helped drywall over the drama teacher's door?"  
  
The Olivia who stood before him tapped her chest, shrugged, and said, "They're all in here, too. I guess they were all stops along the way from the white church in the woods to the house in Brentwood. But the forgiveness thing works for them, too."  
  
Steve looked at her hard and said, "I don't know if I can share your beliefs, Liv. I don't know if I believe in a kind, gentle, loving, and forgiving God. Sometimes I'm not sure I believe in God at all. Where does that leave us?"  
  
She led him over to the north side of the building and sat beside him on the steps.  
  
"Do you pray?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Strength…guidance…patience…help…and protection."  
  
"And you pray to whom? Smokey the Bear? The Keebler Elf?"  
  
Steve gave her a lopsided grin. "No."  
  
She caressed his face, and said, "So, you pray to God. Do you believe he'll answer, or is it just for something to do?"  
  
"I guess when I pray…I'm looking for some kind of…help."  
  
"Like a lightning bolt, or a parting of the waters, perhaps a bush that burns but is not consumed?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Something subtle."  
  
"I see, and have you ever gotten what you asked for? Have you gotten through a difficult time when you prayed for strength? Have you survived a dangerous situation when you prayed for protection?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"So, does prayer work?"  
  
He could see where her logic was headed, but it wasn't that easy for him. "How do I know it might not have happened anyway, even if I didn't pray about it?"  
  
"You don't, but you believed it was possible, so you prayed. You do believe, Steve. It's natural to have doubts, sometimes. But deep down you believe."  
  
"Ok, so I believe in God, but not like you do. So, I'm still wondering where that leaves us."  
  
"You believe in God."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"If we had kids, would you let me take them to church?"  
  
"Sure. I went to church when I was a kid, and I think it's good for kids to have a moral upbringing."  
  
"Would you come with us?"  
  
His answer was slower in coming, but he agreed. "I…suppose. If it was a place where I felt comfortable."  
  
She laughed and said, "Trust me, Steve, there's a church for everybody. Would you let me teach them my beliefs?"  
  
He gave her another of his lopsided grins and, jerking his head in the direction of the Willard Preacher, said, "As long as it doesn't sound like him."  
  
"Well, then," Olivia said thoughtfully, "I think that leaves us right back where we were ten minutes ago."  
  
By some silent agreement, they let the argument drop. They listened to the angry diatribe for a few moments before heading up the tree-lined mall. "These are American elms," she said, indicating the trees. Pointing to the building straight ahead, Liv said, "That's Pattee Library. There's a room in the basement that has five walls."  
  
"A pentagon?"  
  
"No. It's a regular square room, but it's got a low ceiling and the shelves are less than two feet apart. A shelf in the corner by the door acts like a partition and blocks access to the exit. I'm a little claustrophobic, and once I lost my bearings in there. I was proud of myself for not panicking. I just went to a corner, and when I couldn't find the door, I went to the next corner, and the next, and so on. When I hit the fourth corner I got scared, because the room was square."  
  
Steve laughed, "What did you do?"  
  
"I went back the other way, hit the fourth corner, and started to hyperventilate. Then I freaked, started running along the wall, and finally found the exit. I ran out to the landing by the stairwell, collapsed on the floor, and started to cry. Somebody spotted me, and called the campus cops. The guy who came was very nice. At first, he thought I'd been attacked, but when I explained what happened, he didn't laugh. Instead, he took me back inside, and led me around the room to show me what had confused me. I held his hand the whole time."  
  
Looking at Steve, Olivia noted an apologetic expression on his face.  
  
"What's the matter, babe?"  
  
"I just laughed at you about that. I'm sorry."  
  
Now it was Liv's turn to be amused. "Oh, for goodness sake. It's a funny story. It was years ago, and I'm not traumatized any more. I told it to amuse you."  
  
Steve smiled. "Ok, so I'm allowed to laugh."  
  
She winked and said, "Yes, but not too much."  
  
Next, she took him to the Nittany Lion Shrine, and lectured him about it.  
  
"The Nittany Lion mascot originated at a baseball game against Princeton in the early 1900's. Penn State's team was shown a statue of Princeton's Bengal tiger to intimidate them. Since Penn State had no mascot, one of the Penn State players made up the Nittany Lion on the spot. In just a few years it became so popular, it was adopted as the mascot without there ever being an official vote. The Nittany Lion is just a mountain lion, but the 'Nittany' before it gave Penn State a symbol all it's own. The Nittany Lion statue is sculpted from a block of Indiana limestone. The shrine is the most photographed site on the campus."  
  
She pulled out a disposable camera and had Steve climb up on the statue, assuring him that it was allowed. After taking his picture, she had him snap a couple of her posing with the statue. Then she flagged down a passing student and had him take several of the two of them together.  
  
As they were posing, she told him another story. "One year, before a game against the Syracuse Orangemen, somebody painted the statue bright orange. Rumor has it, JoePa's wife, Sue, and the other coaches wives did it because there was some concern that the team was getting overconfident and would lose the game. Of course, it's completely unconfirmed."  
  
After the shrine, they went to the anthropology museum, which was interesting enough. Then they toured the Palmer Museum of art, which clearly enthralled Olivia. "I wish I had that kind of talent," she said breathlessly.  
  
"Liv, you are a doctor, a singer, a musician, a songwriter, a mechanic, an inventor, a clothing designer, a gourmet cook, a gardener, a marksman, and a self-defense expert. What more do you want?"  
  
With a grin she said, "I want it all, babe."  
  
Steve just laughed at her and shook his head.  
  
After the art museum, they strolled along a wide, quiet street to the Creamery.  
  
Liv told him, "Ben and Jerry, the ice cream guys from Vermont, learned to make ice cream at a Penn State workshop."  
  
"No kidding?"  
  
Liv found them a table in the far corner while Steve paid for two cones. Liv got some kind of chocolate concoction, but Steve tried one of the other flavors, something with fruit and nuts in it, the name of which he promptly forgot. He thought the ice cream was ok, but nothing earth shattering. Of course, he knew better than to share that opinion with Liv.  
  
"Can I taste some of yours?" she asked.  
  
"Sure, here." He took another bite and held the cone out to her. She took it from him, but instead of tasting the cone, she surprised him with a deep, breathtaking kiss.  
  
"Mmmmm, delicious," she purred, and grinned impishly at Steve, whom she had left panting from lack of oxygen.  
  
"You are incorrigible," he told her when he finally got his breath back.  
  
"I know. And you want to taste mine, don't you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." Steve was surprised at himself. Not only were they in a public establishment but both walls were also mostly windows. Anyone on the street could look in and see them. Usually, he wasn't one for public displays of affection, but Olivia had already gotten the best of him. He wasn't about to back down from the challenge.  
  
She took a bite of her chocolate cone, and leaned forward for a kiss. He kissed her long and deep, exploring and tasting until his world narrowed to the taste of her and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Only when his vision grew dark and stars danced before his eyes did he break off, succumbing to the desperate need for air.  
  
Olivia sat across from him, a bit flushed, her full lips looking red, moist, and well kissed. Steve was surprised to see that she was breathing almost normally.  
  
"Damned yoga," he muttered, still short of breath.  
  
"It comes in handy sometimes. I could do this all afternoon."  
  
"I wouldn't advise it," came a nearby voice.  
  
Both Olivia and Steve blushed furiously, and, since Steve was still catching his breath, Olivia was left to respond to the campus police officer approaching their table.  
  
She smiled sweetly and said, "I'm sorry officer. Just because I could doesn't mean I would. It's kind of like tag, you see. I got him, he got me, and since there's no one else playing, that's pretty much the end of it. We'll save the rest for later." Looking at her watch, she added, "We should be going anyway. It's almost 2:00 and we have to be back in Punxsutawney by five."  
  
The cop looked thoughtful for a moment and said, "Just see that you two behave yourselves as long as you're here. I swear I don't know what gets into you alumni when you get on campus. You act worse than you ever did as students."  
  
Liv shrugged and offered, "Nostalgia?"  
  
The cop laughed aloud and said, "Maybe. Now I think it's time for the two of you to get a move on."  
  
Steve finally spoke. "We certainly will, sir, and thank you."  
  
They left the Creamery and walked down the hill toward the bookstore, trading licks from their ice cream cones instead of kisses. Soon a blue and white bus passed them, and Olivia snapped her fingers and said, "We should have taken the Campus Loop. You could have seen everything in half an hour. We'll just have to do that another time."  
  
At the bookstore, they bought some postcards. Steve chose one of the Nittany Lion Shrine to send his dad, and others of Old Main and the Mall for Jesse and Amanda. He didn't see what Liv bought, and when he asked her, she said mysteriously, "It's a surprise."  
  
This time, instead of going straight through the HUB, they went up to the main floor and walked through a small display of student artwork. Finding some comfortable seats in one of the lounges, they filled out the postcards. On the other side of the building, they walked downstairs and came out at the post office.  
  
As Steve paid for his three postcards, the man at the counter asked, "You from LA, Steve?"  
  
Steve grinned, knowing the man had seen his signature on the back of the cards. "Yeah, how'd you guess, Mike?"  
  
Mike grinned back and said, "I just have a way of knowing. What brings you here, especially in February?"  
  
Steve jerked his head toward Olivia and said, "My girlfriend."  
  
Mike took Olivia's postcard, glanced at it, took her payment, and said, "Olivia Regis. I remember you. You always used to have lunch across the street with the really, really tall guy and the guy with the buzz cut, didn't you? And one or another of you was always sending something off or getting something from home."  
  
"That's me, Mike. You have a heck of a memory. I haven't been here since '85."  
  
"Well, some people are just unforgettable. Besides, you always shared your cookies. Welcome back." Looking at Steve, he said, "You got a good one, Steve. Take care of her and don't let her slip away."  
  
Steve blushed slightly and said, "Oh, I have no intention of losing her, ever."  
  
They took the sidewalk along the south side of the HUB to get back to the parking garage. On the way, she pointed out a large red sculpture and said, "That's F.R.O.H." The name rhymed with toe.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"No, what. It's the Fighting Red Onion Head."  
  
Steve took another look and said, "I see the onion. I get it. Is that what it's really called?"  
  
"No, but nobody knows the real name. It's based on a photograph of a Spanish mill worker falling in action during the Spanish Civil War. They put it up in '88. I'd already left, but I kept up with events on campus and it caused quite a stir. A lot of people make fun of it and vandalize it, and the Undergraduate Student Government even passed a resolution to have it removed. It seems a little out of place, but I don't think it's offensive, do you?"  
  
Steve paused to study it a moment and shuddered. "No, I don't think it's offensive, but it kinda gives me the willies. I've seen guys shot down in war and on the streets. The sculptor got it right."  
  
Olivia gasped quietly, and while she didn't say anything, she did slip her hand into his and give it a comforting squeeze.  
  
Back in the jeep, she looked at her watch and said, "Twenty after two." She handed Steve a twenty-dollar bill and, starting the engine, said, "I want to get some stickies for breakfast tomorrow. If I drop you off at Ye Olde College Diner and circle the block, will you go in and buy two boxes?"  
  
"What are stickies?"  
  
"Just ask for them and someone will take care of you."  
  
Steve shrugged. "OK."  
  
Ten minutes later, stickies in hand, Steve sprinted out of the diner and around the jeep. Climbing in he said, "You could have just told me sticky buns, Liv."  
  
"Oh, but they're not the same. You'll know what I mean tomorrow morning."  
  
As they drove out of town, Olivia asked, "Do you mind if I take the back roads home? It's been a warm day, and they should be clear. It's beautiful country."  
  
Steve asked, "Do you have your cell phone? If we get stuck, we can call Jud and May and let them know we're running late."  
  
Liv nodded.  
  
"Then I don't see why we can't take the scenic route."  
  
Liv was right about the countryside, it was gorgeous. Steve couldn't believe the amount of wildlife he saw. He lost count of the deer. They saw a group of ducks and geese that Liv said had probably wintered at one of the nearby farms. Liv suspected that the red fox they saw was rabid, and when Steve asked why, she explained that they were shy, nocturnal creatures, and one normally wouldn't come so close to a road in daylight unless something was wrong.  
  
"Of course, it could just be really hungry," she admitted. "The snow is kind of deep around here, and it has probably been a hard winter."  
  
A few miles down the road, she stopped and put on her four way flashers to let Steve watch a black bear and its cub for a few minutes. She laughed softly as he pressed his face to the window and watched with childlike wonder.  
  
"Shouldn't they be hibernating?" he asked softly.  
  
"Not necessarily. We've had a few warm days in a row, and they probably came out looking for food." With a chuckle, she asked, "Have you ever seen a bear before?"  
  
He shook his head, never looking away. "Not like this. Not this close in the wild. How old do you think the baby is, Liv?"  
  
"I doubt if it's more than a year. It's too small to be two, and mothers don't let them stick around much longer than that."  
  
"They don't look nearly as fierce as your rug."  
  
"Generally they aren't, Steve. They're very gentle creatures, and mostly vegetarian. If they eat meat, it's usually something they've scavenged in the woods or in someone's garbage, but they might catch a fish or a frog or two. Jud has pictures of one his brothers hand feeding a wild cub while the mama watched."  
  
He laughed a little and said, "They look like great big teddy bears."  
  
"They're not quite that cuddly. A mama won't defend a cub like a grizzly does, but you should keep your distance anyway."  
  
Steve nodded to indicate he heard her, but he had nothing left to say. He was totally absorbed in bear-watching.  
  
A couple minutes later, a car heading the other direction came around the curve and scared the animals off into the woods. Steve sighed deeply and sat back in his seat. Olivia cut the flashers and drove on.  
  
They rode in silence for several minutes before she said, "Left you speechless, did they?"  
  
"Huh? Oh. That was amazing, Liv! I have never seen anything like that. They're so beautiful. Are they smart?"  
  
"They're one of the smarter mammals, yeah, and pretty adaptable, too."  
  
"I have *got* to tell Dad about this. It was incredible…"  
  
Steve rambled for several minutes about the bears, and Olivia just smiled and chuckled to herself about his enthusiasm. It was her turn to relax and enjoy his company.  
  
She had been right about the roads, and they pulled into the diner at five minutes before five. Steve had fallen asleep, and he slowly stirred awake when he sensed the motion of the car had stopped.  
  
"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" he asked, somewhat chagrinned.  
  
"If you can fall asleep sitting up in the jeep on the back roads, you need the rest. Besides, it will be late before we get home."  
  
She fished a box of stickies out of the back seat and said, "Let's go. Jud and May are probably waiting."  
  
The diner was already bustling, and some of the same faces were there, in the same places they occupied at breakfast a few days earlier. Steve finally got to meet Judi, the waitress he and Liv had filled in for a few days ago. She was a pretty blonde with high cheekbones and full, red lips. When she came to wait on them, she gave Liv a hug and shook Steve's hand. Liv gave May the box of stickies she had brought, and May asked Steve if he had tried any. When he said no, she said, "Just you wait."  
  
While they enjoyed their meals, hamburgers and French fries all around, Liv and Steve told them about their day. She talked about their debate over the Willard Preacher and, at her urging, he blushingly gave them a very toned down version of the incident with the police officer.  
  
"Hah!" Jud laughed, "If he came over to talk to you, it was no peck on the cheek you were exchanging. There was some serious necking going on."  
  
"JUD!" May and Liv both scolded him.  
  
Eyes alight, he said, "Ladies?"  
  
Changing the subject, Liv said with a wink, "Tell them about the bears, Steve."  
  
Steve told them about the bears until their eyes glazed over. He had absorbed every detail, and delighted in reliving it as he told his friends all about it. Suddenly realizing that their attention had wandered, he said lamely, "Uh, sorry. I've just never seen one before, so it's a big deal to me. I imagine you see them all the time."  
  
He blushed and looked self-consciously at his plate.  
  
May made him feel at ease.  
  
"It's all right, son. We do see a lot of them, and they're becoming a regular nuisance around here." Smiling, she finished, "But they are beautiful, aren't they?"  
  
Steve nodded. "The fur was so shiny and it looked so soft."  
  
After finishing their meals, the four of them walked over to the high school. Steve and Olivia walked ahead, and Jud and May came behind them, keeping a discreet distance to allow the lovers some privacy. May pointed out that they were holding hands. Jud said he'd noticed it all through dinner. He agreed that they made a good couple.  
  
The game didn't start for another hour, but the public address system had to be adjusted and Liv had to warm up before she sang. Steve sat with Jud and May for about half an hour, and met a number of Liv's other friends and some of her teachers while she tested the sound system. He was not surprised to find she was widely admired. When she was finished, she sat beside him and took his hand.  
  
"Liv, your fingers are like ice."  
  
"I'm a little nervous, Steve. It's been almost twenty years."  
  
"I heard you last night. You were perfect. You'll be fine."  
  
"If Mr. Jenkins will let me use the music room to practice, will you come with me?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
They went in search of the principal, but found the choir director first.  
  
"Mr. Shelley? Remember me?"  
  
A robust, bearded man in his late fifties turned around and said, "By the Muse, of course I do! Olivia, how are you?"  
  
She giggled and said, "Nervous. Did they tell you I'm singing tonight?"  
  
"Yes, yes, they did. And you want to rehearse, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, sir, if I may."  
  
"Come along, come along, and do remember your manners, child. Who is you friend?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Steve Sloan, Mr. James Shelley. Mr. Shelley is the one who first got me to sing the National Anthem. The machine had chewed up the tape while they were testing the system at the football field, and they couldn't get another copy in time for the game. He hunted me down and took me to the broadcast booth, and for the next four years I sang at every home football and basketball game."  
  
"And she did it remarkably well, too," Mr. Shelley added as he let them in the music room. "Olivia, do you mind if I stay?"  
  
"Would you, sir? I'd appreciate an informed and objective opinion."  
  
He sat at the piano and plunked out a few notes for her. She found her starting note and launched into a rousing rendition of 'God Bless America.'  
  
Mr. Shelley told her reverently, "Your voice has matured, Olivia. If you ever leave medicine, I have a few friends who could get you some auditions. All you need is a foot in the door and you could be a sensation."  
  
Olivia blushed and said, "Can we do 'The Star Spangled Banner' now?"  
  
"Of course, dear. A cappella."  
  
She found her note, and began.  
  
Starting low and soft, she evoked the trepidation Francis Scott Key must have felt when he was being detained by the British during their attack on Fort McHenry and the battle in Baltimore. Steve could sense her pride as she sang about watching the flag at twilight. He could imagine Key and his companions watching in fear and shock from the deck of their ship. Surely, they were frightened, but they must also have been proud of their countrymen who fought so bravely for their freedom. Olivia's voice shifted to hope as she sang of how the flag was still visible in the light of every explosion throughout the night, and when she sang of the 'land of the free and the home of the brave', Steve could hear elation ringing in her voice. As the sun rose that morning, Key had seen the flag, still waving proudly over the scene of the battle.  
  
Mr. Shelley applauded when Liv finished, and Steve had to swallow a lump in his throat.  
  
With tears in his eyes, Mr. Shelley sighed, "I have missed that for so long. Do what you did here, and you will be perfect. Just remember not to swallow the microphone."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Looking at her watch, Liv said, "It's almost time for the girl's game. We'd better hurry."  
  
The gym wasn't full yet, and Steve easily found room beside Jud and May near the front. Olivia went directly to the microphone and waited until the announcer introduced her.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a very special treat for you. Reviving a tradition that goes back twenty years, Miss Olivia Margaret Regis will be singing 'God Bless America' to start off the girls game tonight. Please rise at this time for the posting of the colors."  
  
Four JROTC cadets marched out carrying the American Flag and another flag Steve couldn't quite identify because the folds obscured the design. When they halted the announcer cued Olivia, and she stepped back from the mike, clearly remembering Mr. Shelley's advice, and began to sing. If anything, she sounded better than she had in the music room. When she was finished, there was a moment of silence, which suddenly exploded into cheers, whistles, and perhaps thirty people shouting, "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," at the top of their lungs.  
  
Steve had to laugh. She had her own fan club. She slowly made her way to him, getting handshakes, hugs, and welcomes home from a number of people in the crowd. When she sat beside him, she automatically took his hand, and he felt proud to be the guest of someone who was so well loved.  
  
  
  
The girls' team crushed the visitors eighty-eight to thirty, and in the last minute of the game, Steve asked Jud to join him at the concession stand. Knowing Steve's intention, Jud gladly obliged and allowed May and Liv time to talk.  
  
"Olivia?"  
  
"Hmm?" Liv was distracted. In a few minutes, she had to sing again and she was getting nervous.  
  
"You like Steve a lot, don't you?"  
  
Liv smiled sweetly and said, "Yes, I do."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you two a serious couple? Are you planning to get married?"  
  
Liv sighed, folded her arms, and shrugged. May recognized that as a sign of Olivia's reluctance to talk. Knowing she had only a few minutes to accomplish her mission, May decided to press the issue.  
  
"You know, Jud and I really like him."  
  
Beaming, Liv asked, "Do you?"  
  
May nodded. "He's a good man, and he worships the ground you walk on. Has he asked you yet?"  
  
"He tried to, May, but I stopped him before he could."  
  
"What on earth for, child?"  
  
"I'd told him about Ted and Keith, but he didn't know about the fire, then, or about Grandpa Henry beating me. I didn't want him to say something he'd want to take back. That's why I brought him here. So I could tell him everything, then he could decide if he really wanted to ask me."  
  
May prodded gently. "Have you told him everything?"  
  
Liv nodded and looked up through lowered lashes.  
  
"And if he asks again, what will you say?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
May gave a big smile. Liv's answer came without hesitation. She knew a certain young man would be very happy tonight.  
  
"Then I hope he asks you soon."  
  
"I'm not so sure he will, May."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Well…" Olivia hesitated, "I freaked out on him at the homestead, and I fainted when Ted showed up at Boots. That argument today about the Willard Preacher seemed to take him by surprise. I'm not sure he likes what he's learned about me the past few days."  
  
May patted her shoulder, and, trying to hide the laughter of one who gets an inside joke, said, "Honey, if he doesn't, then he's a fool, and believe me, that man's mama didn't raise no fool."  
  
Olivia looked at May and said, "Thanks. That makes me feel better, even if I think you are wrong."  
  
  
  
  
  
At the concession, Jud and Steve were discussing similar matters, but being men, they had considerably less to say about it.  
  
"May says you want to marry Livvie."  
  
"Yes, sir," Steve answered guardedly. He hadn't asked Jud's blessing or permission because he was afraid the man would deny it in a bid to protect his son.  
  
"How do your folks feel about her?"  
  
"My mom passed away several years ago, but my dad, my sister, and my closest friends adore her. All my friends like her."  
  
Jud nodded. "I know you haven't asked, but May and I think rather highly of you, too, son. We can tell you love her, and we know you'll be good to her."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Steve said, "I know I should have asked sooner, but does that mean I have your blessing."  
  
"Yep."  
  
  
  
Steve and Jud got back to their seats just in time for the national anthem. After their conversation, Steve had sprinted back to the jeep and gotten the ring out of the glove compartment. He showed it to Jud in the lobby and briefly told him about having it and the necklace made to match the watch. Jud was suitably impressed and when they took their seats, he thanked Steve for showing him the ring.  
  
"May will want to know what it looks like," he whispered in Steve's ear, "and she'll pester me until I tell her." With a naughty grin, he said, "I may even get a little action out of it tonight."  
  
Both men burst out laughing as they stood for the singing of the national anthem. Again, Liv started soft and low, her sweet voice painting a picture of frightened men watching a battle from afar, aware that their fate probably hung in the balance. The joy at the end, when the flag still flew was unmistakable. As before the girls' game, there was a moment of silence. Steve brought up his hands to applaud, but Jud grabbed his wrist and whispered, "Hang on, son. She isn't done yet."  
  
The tension was palpable, a thousand people anticipating what she would do next. Into the silence, Liv suddenly wailed, "GOD BELSS AMERICA! GO RAIDERS!" and, jumping high and doing a mid-air split, she started an Indian war cry that the entire audience, including Steve, took up. He could feel the bleachers shake and he swore he saw the speakers and the overhead lights tremble.  
  
This time when she made her way through the crowd, the greetings and congratulations were so hearty, he was afraid she might be injured. One man, whom Steve had not yet met, lifted her high in the air and swung her around like a rag doll. Jud explained that the fellow was a special education student Olivia used to help in school, and he simply did not comprehend that Liv was no longer twelve years old.  
  
Dryly, Steve said, "Sometimes I'm not so sure myself."  
  
Jud guffawed, and told Steve, "I know what you mean."  
  
With the anthem over, and the noise level back down to where she could make herself heard, May leaned over and said, "Go for it. She's ready and willing."  
  
Steve's grin nearly split his face as Olivia sat beside him and took his hand.  
  
When she asked, "What's the joke, guys?" Steve said, "I honestly can't tell you Liv. It might get Jud and me both in trouble."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The boys' game was much more exciting than the girls', with neither team ever leading by more than a three-point shot. The squads were evenly matched and well coached, and Steve could see that some of the players were natural leaders on the court. In the end, though, the Punxsutawney Raiders won by a score of 63-61.  
  
  
  
When they arrived back at the house, Steve made a show of yawning and stretching and said, "It's been a long day, sweetheart. I think I'm ready for bed. How about you?"  
  
Wide-eyed and still flushed with excitement, Liv said, "Oh, Steve, after singing in front of that crowd and watching that game, I'm too jazzed to sleep right now."  
  
Steve pretended to think it over, and finally said, "I could think of some other things to do, babe, but to be honest, after that ride today and walking around campus for four hours I'm all done in."  
  
Liv stuck her lower lip out in a pout and said, "Oh. I guess I'll read a while, then."  
  
Suppressing a grin, Steve said, "Ok, whatever, but don't stay up too long, I need you in the bed to keep me warm."  
  
She smiled and said, "I'll just get myself a cup of tea and a book from the library and come up there to read."  
  
Steve nodded his agreement. "That'll work."  
  
He made a great show of trudging up the steps, yawning all the way.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight at the top of the stairs, he hustled to the bedroom to prepare. First, he ran a scalding bath. By the time they were ready for it, it would cool off and be just right. Then he went to the gym and got the roses, champagne, ice bucket, and glasses he had stashed there that morning. After setting the champagne in the ice bucket and placing it and the glasses on the table before the fire, he undid the bouquet of roses and used them to make a path from the top of the stairs to the bathroom. He placed a single rose with a spray of baby's breath and an occasional fern every few feet. He tore the petals off the last one and sprinkled them over the bath water. Finding Liv's silk pajamas, he hung them on the shower curtain rod to steam the wrinkles out while he went into the bedroom and started the fire and lit every candle he could find.  
  
Taking several candles into the bathroom and arranging them in front of the mirror, he then turned to the tub to find the pajamas were now wrinkle- free. He carried them out to the bedroom and hung them on the doorknob in the hall, then he went back in the room, found a notepad and a pen in one of the nightstand drawers, and wrote a note which he folded in half and placed over the hanger with the pajamas. Next, he took the dried flower arrangement from its container by the chaise in the corner, and laying the flowers on the table, he carried the vase into the bathroom where he filled it with water and placed it with the champagne and the glasses beside the fire. Finally, he took the ring out of his pocket and wedged it behind the cushion of one of the fireside chairs. After one last look around to be sure everything was in place, Steve changed into his pajamas, stowed his dirty clothes in the hamper in the bathroom, and slipped through the master bath and into the gym where he could open the door a crack and watch Liv's progress down the hall.  
  
He grinned as he peeked through the crack in the door and watched her climb slowly up the stairs, already engrossed in her book. She held the novel in one hand and sipped tea with the other. He knew the moment she caught the first rose in her peripheral vision because she froze in her tracks and slowly closed the book. She smiled, and tucking the book under her arm, she bent very carefully so as not to spill her tea, and picked up the rose. She retrieved another right in front of the gym door, and, when he judged she was well past him, Steve carefully and soundlessly opened the door and stood in the hall to watch. At the fourth rose, she decided she couldn't manage the book and the tea any more, and she left both of them on the floor to the side of the hall. He saw her retrieve five more roses before he ducked back into the gym, sprinted silently through the master bath, and dove into bed.  
  
He heard Liv giggle as she read aloud the note on her pajamas. "Put these on so I can watch you take them off later."  
  
Steve rolled over and pretended to be asleep. He heard her gasp upon entering the candlelit room, and when he strained to listen he heard the sound of silk sliding over her skin as she changed. After a moment of silence, he felt her slight weight settle on the bed, and she muttered, "Poor baby, I guess you were even more tired than you thought. I guess you can watch me undress in the morning."  
  
He rolled over and opened his eyes to see her holding the rose bouquet in both hands, eyes closed, her nose buried in the fragrant blossoms. Her curls were loose and wild, with one hanging down right between her eyes, the end of it resting on the bridge of her nose. Steve grinned and couldn't resist tugging gently on the wayward lock as he teased:  
  
There was a little girl,  
  
And she had a little curl,  
  
Right in the middle of her forehead.  
  
When she was good,  
  
She was very, very good,  
  
And when she was bad, she was horrid.  
  
When Liv opened her eyes, the green silk pajamas positively made them glow.  
  
"So," she purred, "Do you want me to be good…or bad…tonight?"  
  
A slow smile spread across Steve's face as he replied, "Maybe a little of both."  
  
He stood up beside the bed and offered Liv his hand, which she accepted graciously. He led her to the fireside chairs, and, taking the roses from her, placed them in the waiting vase. Then he sat her in a chair, poured some champagne, and made a toast.  
  
"To little girls, good and bad, who grow up to be extraordinary women."  
  
Olivia blushed and said modestly, "Oh, Steve."  
  
He smiled, looped his arm around hers, and said seductively, "Oh, Liv."  
  
They sipped their champagne with their arms intertwined.  
  
Now Steve unwound their arms, placed his glass back on the table, took Liv's glass and set it beside his, and kissed her deeply. He was pleased to leave her breathless, knowing that he had profoundly affected her. Yoga wasn't helping her now.  
  
He went down on one knee before her, and heard her gasp as he reached a hand back by her hip. He wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her again as he drew the ring out of the depths of the chair. As they broke the kiss, he presented her for the second time with the ring he'd had made just for her, a single diamond set between two swirls of white gold lined with sapphires and pearls.  
  
This time, she didn't make a sound.  
  
"Olivia Margaret Regis, your fears were misplaced. You brought me here to learn your secrets thinking that they might drive me away, but everything I have learned about you has made me love you more. I am honored by your wish to be completely open with me, and I have found that you are honest and forthright, a steadfast friend. You tolerate people's differences and forgive their faults, but you do not accept hypocrisy, neither from your oldest friends nor even from yourself. Seeing you here and learning about your past has shown me that you have a pure, kind, loyal, and loving heart. I would make it mine, if I may. Will you marry me?"  
  
He took her left hand in his right and slipped the ring on it.  
  
She dropped to her knees before him, tears sliding down her freckled cheeks, and said, "Oh, yes. Oh, my God, yes."  
  
Their next kiss was so tender and sweet, it almost had the innocence of a first-date kiss; loving and yearning and not quite sure what came next. What did come next was a wave of passion that nearly undid them both on the spot. Steve buried his fingers in Olivia's hair, tilted her head back, and devoured her sweet, red lips. While she let him ravish her mouth, Olivia's nimble fingers began to unbutton Steve's shirt. Though his hands were larger, they were no less agile, and before she knew it, without breaking the kiss, Steve had loosed her hair and halfway unbuttoned the top to her pajamas. She gasped as his big hands brushed the sensitive skin of her abdomen while trying to undo yet another button. Then she drew back and stilled his busy digits by covering them with her own small hands.  
  
"I thought you wanted to watch me do that," she panted.  
  
"I changed my mind," Steve growled.  
  
"Oh no you don't," she giggled. "You'll get your wish soon enough, but first let me take care of you, baby."  
  
She took Steve's hand and encouraged him to his feet. It didn't take much encouraging. He stood before her panting, both of them bathed in the golden light of the fire and a multitude of candles, and he reached for the beautiful, round, freckled breast he could see just barely peeking out of the half-open pajama top.  
  
She playfully batted his hand away, saying, "Don't you dare."  
  
Steve fisted his hand, fingers burning to touch her body, and let it fall to his side.  
  
"Very good," she whispered. "Now, don't move a muscle, and don't make a sound, or I will have to punish you."  
  
Steve did his level best to comply with her instructions, but she didn't make it easy. She began by torturing him with kisses. As long as he stood erect, she wasn't tall enough to reach his mouth, but that didn't stop her from driving him wild. She began at his chin, her tongue playing with the cleft, and when she giggled and said, "Your stubble tickles," it was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms, carry her to the bed, and take her then and there.  
  
His eyes slid closed as he tried to anticipate what was to come.  
  
Olivia moved lower, showering attention on Steve's neck, his Adam's apple, and the notch where his collarbones met. Then she followed the line of his collarbones out to his shoulders, and while she ministered to the one that had been broken during the shooting, she said, "I can actually feel the callous where the bones have knitted." The moist warmth of her breath sent shivers chasing chills across his skin.  
  
After lining his breastbone with featherlight kisses, Liv then worked her way across his chest and back, attacking it not only with kisses, but occasional nips and hickeys. She studiously avoided Steve's sensitive, pebble hard nipples, telling him in a clearly threatening tone, "In case you're wondering, babe, I'm saving them for later."  
  
As she worked her way down his midline, Liv's delicate hands came up to tease his ribs and back. She'd knead the muscles gently, and then skim her hands lightly across his skin. When she reached his navel, it was almost his undoing. First, she gently placed tiny kisses all around it, taunting and teasing as she went. Then, when Steve thought he could bear no more of this delicate treatment, she suddenly kissed it as she would his mouth. Her probing tongue slipped deep inside his middle and found the sensitive nerve endings there, and, in reaction, his body began to move of its own volition, causing him to literally dance in place. Without warning, she sunk her teeth into the edge of the aperture and hissed through clenched teeth, "I said don't move." It was all Steve could do not to cry out.  
  
She teased his belly with kisses, working ever lower until she came to the waistband of his pajama pants. Close to his straining erection, she purred, "Hmmmmmmmm. There seems to be something in the way."  
  
Steve trembled at the vibration of her voice so close to his genitals and sighed, knowing his arousal would soon be free of its soft, flannel prison. Surprisingly, he was delighted to be disappointed when, instead of removing his clothes, Olivia began to knead the muscles of his posterior and the backs of his thighs. As her hands worked their way down to the sensitive backs of his knees, she began kissing him through the fabric, teasing just the sensitive head of his penis. Never before had he been so turned on without coming. As she began to suck at the peak of the tent that was his pants, he thought his knees would buckle, but somehow he stayed on his feet.  
  
Just when he thought he would explode in a million pieces, Olivia surged to her feet and threw herself upon him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his arms, she fully restrained him. All Steve could do at first was stand there and let her kiss him witless. Slowly, his beleaguered brain started sorting through the sensations that were coursing through his body. The hands kneading the muscles at the back of his neck made the back of his head and his shoulders tingle. The feeling of silk against his bare chest gave him chills. When he finally realized he had tasted salt in Olivia's initial kiss, he couldn't figure where it had come from, until he realized his pajama pants must have been soaked through with precum.  
  
His back was aching with the strain of supporting all her weight when Liv finally unwound her legs and slid down his front. For a moment they both stood motionless, then Steve heard the gentle swish of silk as she moved behind him. His eyes flew open and he gasped as, without warning, she stripped him of both his shirt and pants in a matter of seconds.  
  
She circled around in front of him again, and watched with amusement and careful scrutiny, as he stood there, bathed in the firelight, panting, and trembling, and waited for her next move. As her eyes met his, one side of her mouth quirked up in a delightfully evil smile, and she finished unbuttoning her top.  
  
"Soon, babe, real soon," she promised in a throaty whisper.  
  
The roaming had that had earlier sought her breast reached out with a will of its own, but when Olivia's eyes traveled to the offending appendage, Steve forced it back to its proper place at his side.  
  
"Just for that, I think you'll wait a little longer."  
  
Steve suppressed a groan, knowing if he made a sound, she would punish him more. To this point, her discipline had been delightful, but his nerves were stretched taught with the need for release, and while he wouldn't mind further correction, it could wait until his desire was quenched. He waited, every nerve on edge, as she gazed at him, clearly considering what she should do next. He was hoping she'd strip and finish him off, but for the second time, he was pleased when she disappointed him.  
  
Olivia moved to stand close to him, so close he could feel the warmth of her body, and leaned her face close to his chest. "I almost forgot about these," she muttered. Her words never made it to his passion-drunk brain. When she puckered her lips into a little round "o", Steve thought she was going to start kissing him again. He was caught completely off guard when she turned her head and blew a stream of cool air across his aching nipple.  
  
He groaned at the sensations ricocheting through his body, and yelped when her small, sharp teeth latched firmly onto the throbbing bud on his chest. He felt tremors move through him as Olivia reminded him without ever relieving the pressure of her bite, "I said don't make a sound."  
  
His eyes closed again, his hands tightened to fists at his sides, and his toes curled, but he fell silent. Olivia chuckled against his chest as he tried desperately to hold his breath. Her teeth hadn't released him yet, and every breath caused her bite to tug at the already battered nub. It wasn't particularly painful, but the feelings that bloomed from the spot with every exhalation were almost more than he could take. Liv held on for several minutes as Steve first tried taking slow, deep breaths. Then, finding that didn't work, he attempted to pant like a dog. When that only served to send the electricity along his frayed nerves faster, he finally settled on slow, shallow breaths. He was barely getting enough air, but it made the stimulation bearable.  
  
Just as he began to settle into the experience, Liv changed tactics and started sucking. He could feel her tongue slide around the aureole and across the pebbly surface of the nipple itself as she sucked it hard. She moved back and forth between the twin buds, never staying on one long enough to allow Steve to adjust to what she was doing. Finally, he was able to get a full breath, and the surge of oxygen made him stagger against her.  
  
"Easy, babe, sit a minute."  
  
She backed him into one of the velvet-upholstered chairs by the fire and gently pushed him down, never leaving off what she was doing. The fabric of the cushion was soft against his bare bottom and warm from being so near the fire, and as Olivia slid into his lap the hot silk of her pajamas made him beg.  
  
"Now, Liv. I need it now. Please."  
  
He thought his heart would break when she did not undress and straddle him on the spot. Yet again, she gave him a most pleasant surprise, even better than what he had expected.  
  
Sliding off his lap, she dropped to her knees before him. Taking his hands, she guided them behind and beneath him until he was sitting on them. Then she looked up at him and said, "Open your eyes, Steve."  
  
He did as he was told, barely aware that they had been closed all this time.  
  
She stepped back and slowly, sensuously, stripped for him. He could hear the rustle of silk as the top slid off her shoulders. She moved close, almost close enough for him to kiss her breasts. Then she stepped away again. She slid the pajama bottoms partway down, then, as if a better idea occurred to her, she pulled them back up, and turned. Sliding them down again, she mooned him and said over her shoulder, "You want to get a hold of this, don't you?"  
  
He licked his lips and nodded. Really, it didn't matter what she let him have. He just wanted to touch her. She covered her rear. Turning to face him one more time, she pulled the bottoms down just far enough to let him peek at the auburn hair between her legs before she turned her back on him one last time and shucked the pajama pants completely.  
  
Then she was at his feet again, chin on his knees, saying, "Watch, but don't touch." She reached back under him and held his hands beneath his butt. Her touch back there made him squirm. "I want to do this for you, right now. I can do this, but not if you try to control what happens. Do you understand?"  
  
He gulped at the raw passion in her eyes and nodded. Sliding forward until he sat at the edge of the chair, he opened his legs to give her more room.  
  
She began gently, licking and teasing his penis with her agile tongue. She worked her way around the sides and over the top before she attended to the sensitive underside. Then she moved to his testicles, washing them thoroughly. She sucked first one, then the other into her mouth and clamped down gently. It was a startling sensation, not painful, but sharp and hot, sending sparks throughout his body.  
  
Finally, she went to the head of his penis. She licked the drop of precum from its straining tip, and teased the sensitive slit with her tongue. She blew a warm breath over it, and Steve raised his hips. She brought her hands up, and pushed him back down to the seat.  
  
Looking up, she said, "I've never done this before. You have to let me take my time."  
  
"It's wonderful, Liv," he gasped, "but I can't last much longer."  
  
She nodded. "I understand, but I need you to be still and let me do this."  
  
"I-I'll try."  
  
Slowly, she took him in her mouth. Bit by bit, she inched her way down on him, tonguing and teasing and sucking as she went. Soon, he was deep in her throat. Suddenly, her whole body convulsed as she gagged on the intruder and she drew back slightly. The unexpected constriction on his manhood coupled with the friction of her pulling away almost made Steve fly apart on the spot.  
  
He went rigid, knotted his hands in the cushion beneath him, and held his breath a moment. She was a small woman, and he was a large man. Everything was built to proportion, and he knew when she started it would be a tight fit. He was determined to let Liv do this in her own good time.  
  
She started taking him into her throat again, and finally, her face was nestled deeply in the dark curls of his groin. A tremble coursed through Steve's body when she started working her throat around him. The moist heat, and rhythmic constrictions soon had him teetering on the precipice. She slid back a fraction, and moved down again, and it was all over.  
  
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! God, Liv. Oh, God." At first, it was barely a whisper, so intense was the initial release, but as he continued to ride the waves of his orgasm, he found his voice and clearly showed his appreciation.  
  
"Oh, Liv! Yes, baby! Yes! God, that's good! Yes! Oh, yes!"  
  
His body pumped spurt after spurt of hot cum down her throat, and still he came. The sensations became increasingly intense, and Steve's shouts were now inarticulate. Liv sucked and worked at his manhood, taking everything she could get out of it, and finally, a last mind-shattering surge of sensation exploded through his system.  
  
"Aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"  
  
Finally, Steve sat silent and motionless in the burgundy velvet chair, and let Olivia clean him with her tongue. When she finished, she climbed into his lap and wiped his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. Steve spent the last of his energy wrapping his arms around her. She kissed him deeply, and he let her take what she wanted. For the second time that night, he tasted his own sex in her kiss. The flavor was remarkable, the sweetness of Liv mingled with his own salty tang.  
  
He tried to murmur his thanks, to tell her how wonderful it had been, but he was spent. She just hushed him and pulled his head down to rest on her breasts. He soon fell into a deep sleep.  
  
  
  
When Steve awoke, he was on the floor, resting on the bearskin rug before the fire, a pillow beneath his head, and a soft chenille throw over top him. The fire was still roaring and the candles still burned brightly, so he guessed he hadn't been sleeping long. Surprisingly, he felt quite refreshed. He looked round to find Liv, curled up in one of the nearby chairs, sipping champagne and alternately admiring her ring and watching him. She wore his flannel pajama top, without the bottoms, and with her feet drawn up under her, it covered her completely.  
  
As he became more alert, they locked eyes and stared at one another for a long moment, until finally, Liv said, "Well?"  
  
Steve sat up, wrapping himself in the blanket, and said, "That was amazing! I've never felt anything like it." Blushing slightly, he added, "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."  
  
After a thoughtful pause, he said, "To be honest, I never would have expected it of you, Liv. You're great in bed, but…"  
  
When he faltered for words, she finished for him. "…with my relative inexperience, you didn't think I had it in me?"  
  
Sheepishly, he nodded. "Please don't be offended, but yeah." Again, he fell silent for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Why'd you do it?"  
  
Olivia considered her answer for a long while. Finally, she said, "To show you I could. I knew if I did it right, you would enjoy it. I wanted to see if I could make you fall apart. I wanted to give you something special."  
  
She blushed, and after a while continued. "I thought about doing this for a long, long time, Steve." Turning redder, she admitted, "I even…read about it…on the internet. I finally decided to do it tonight, because…I didn't want you to think you'd made a mistake. I…was afraid if I…disappointed you…you might change your mind. I know I'm pretty naive when it comes to sex, and I'm sure my gigglefits really irritate you sometimes. I wanted you to know that, if you show me what you like, I'm willing to learn to please you. I…I wanted you to know that I can be good at sex, for you…because I love you."  
  
Steve's jaw dropped, and he sat in silence for several moments. He struggled to wrap his brain around the concept that this bright, funny, vivacious, talented woman could still confuse sex with love. More importantly, he could not believe that she didn't think she had enough to offer already. Now he understood why she had worked up the nerve to go to that seminar weeks ago, and why she had been so upset the night he panicked over the blindfold.  
  
"Olivia, come here," he commanded in a tone that would brook no argument.  
  
She complied immediately, and came to stand beside him. He turned to face the fire, took her arm, and guided her in front of him. Tugging gently, he encouraged her to join him on the floor. Spreading his legs, he sat her between them, and wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close to him. She leaned into his embrace and laid her head on his chest. They sat for a long time watching the fire before he spoke again.  
  
"You still there?" he asked.  
  
"Mmmm-hmmm."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good, because I want to make sure you hear every word I say."  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"On Thanksgiving Day, when I went to shower before you came over, I made myself take a good, long look at my injuries. It was a horrible experience. First, I had to absorb just how ugly my scars were. I had thought about that several times before, and it made me uncomfortable, but to stand in front of the mirror and really look…"  
  
His throat constricted at the memory, but he swallowed, took a deep breath, and pushed passed it. He was telling this story to comfort Olivia. It would not do to fall apart on her now.  
  
"Once I accepted the fact that I was terribly ugly, I immediately worried that no woman would ever…desire me again. Then it occurred to me that most of my injuries were…well…really close to other goings-on down there, and I was afraid I'd never be able to make love again."  
  
"And when you finally did, you ended up with inept and inexperienced me. What a disappointment." In her voice, Steve heard a combination of sympathy, embarrassment, and shame.  
  
"Oh, Liv, you've got it so wrong. When I said I was afraid no woman would want me and that I couldn't make love, I meant I was afraid *you* wouldn't want me and that I couldn't make love to *you*. Making love by itself wasn't all that important. I already knew how much I wanted you, baby, and that has never, ever changed. I have not had a moment's doubt that you are the one I want."  
  
"Steve, it's ok. I know I'm nothing special, but I'm willing to learn…anything you want. I want to make you happy." Steve could tell from the tension in her body and the tremor in her voice that she was dangerously close to tears. He rocked her and hushed her and pressed featherlight kisses against her temple.  
  
"Please just listen, Liv. You're so wrong, and I want to make you understand. Our first night together, Liv, when you touched me, and…inventoried the marks and scars on my body, you told me nothing is ugly when seen through the eyes of love. When you held me, when you weren't afraid to hold me against you, with nothing between you and the horrible mess life has made of my body, everything I was afraid of just went away."  
  
"Steve…"  
  
"Let me finish, sweetheart," he interrupted gently. "Sex with you is always good, Liv, often incredible, and, like tonight, occasionally mind- blowing; but, without your love, it's still *just* sex, and that's not enough for me. What you did for me tonight was out of this world, darling. It was the best sexual experience I have ever had, but I wouldn't want it at all if I didn't know you loved me."  
  
"I really do, you know."  
  
"Oh, my God, yes, Liv. And that's what I've been so clumsily trying to tell you." Steve felt tears sting his eyes.  
  
"You are brilliant and funny and talented and kind and generous, and for some reason I still can't figure out, you chose to love *me*. The first time you came to visit me at the precinct, after you came back from Washington, Cheryl told me that you loved me like it's what God made you to do, and I think she's right, Liv. Until I met you, I never would have believed that one person could love another so much. I never would have believed that one woman could love *me* so much."  
  
Liv had shifted position in Steve's lap and had her ear pressed against his chest. He knew now that she was feeling better, because he could feel the reassuring rhythm of her fingers tapping along with his heartbeat against his ribs.  
  
"I am happy and very flattered that you want so much to please me in bed," Steve said. "Or on the floor, or in the hot tub, or on the corner table at Casey's Diner if it pleases you," he amended his statement and was pleased to hear her giggle. "But if I had to choose, I'd take you and everything else you could give me and be celibate the rest of my life, before I settled for *just* sex with anyone else in the world. No one has ever made me feel so loved, Olivia, and *that* is the feeling I will take away from this and every other time we make love. Do you understand?"  
  
She turned to face him, moving close, and straddling his hips with her legs. Steve felt an all-too-familiar twitch in his groin, but taking a deep breath, he suppressed it knowing that now was not the time. She hooked her index finger under his chin and pulled his face close for a sweet, gentle kiss. Pulling back, she stared deep into his eyes, smiled, and nodded.  
  
"You said I'm good enough."  
  
"I said considerably more than that, Liv."  
  
"I know, Steve, but all my life, that's all I ever needed to hear. Thank you."  
  
He pulled her close and held her as she wept against his chest, shedding tears of joy and relief, as she came to terms with the fact that he was giving her everything she had ever wanted.  
  
  
  
Now it was Steve's turn to watch Liv in her sleep. After making his chest slick with happy tears, she had promptly dozed off. Steve was getting stiff from having slept on the floor, so he gently laid her down on the rug before the fire and covered her with the throw that he'd found over himself earlier in the night. Then he went in search of his discarded pajama pants. Finding them an unpleasant mess, he opted instead for his robe and a blanket over his lap.  
  
He sat there watching Liv sleep, thinking about all that had brought them to this point, and he was amazed that they had ever found each other. So many things had to happen to bring them together. If Ted hadn't gone insane, if he hadn't attacked her and Keith, if Keith hadn't turned away from her, if she hadn't survived her suicide attempts, if her friends and Ted hadn't continued trying to track her down, if she hadn't kept moving to avoid them, if she hadn't come to CG, if she hadn't gotten sick at the fundraiser, if she hadn't stayed late that evening to talk to Drs. Macalvie and Johnson about that little girl, if he hadn't gotten shot, if she hadn't been there when they brought him in, if that damned pink jeep hadn't refused to start, if his dad and Jesse hadn't made him go back to her when she'd stopped him from proposing, if any link in the chain were broken, would he be here now, watching her sleep? Maybe it went further. What if her grandfather hadn't beaten her, or if her family hadn't died? What if they had been middle class instead of dirt poor? What if her father hadn't been a religious man? Would she have had the strength to survive her experiences with Ted and Keith? Would she have had the courage--or in her mind, the faith--to love a cop? Coincidence couldn't explain so many factors coming together.  
  
Somewhere in the night, he found himself sharing Liv's belief that God had a plan for the two of them.  
  
He smiled as he heard her begin to snore softly. A while ago, he'd noticed that was always a sure sign of her coming around. She'd be awake again in a few minutes. He wondered what she'd want to do. Part of him still felt a little selfish that he had let her do all the work in their lovemaking. True she had wanted to do it, but still, after she had rocked his world, he had simply fallen asleep without even trying to pleasure her. He was sure she realized how much she had taken out of him, but that did little to soothe his conscience.  
  
If she wanted to rest, he would wait, but if she wanted to play…he felt a twitch, and knew he was ready for some more fun and games.  
  
Under his watchful gaze, she yawned, stretched, and rolled over, still sleeping lightly. As she rolled, the blanket shifted to expose her left leg up to the hip, and the much-too-big pajama top slipped down to expose most of her perfect, freckled, left breast. As Steve studied the situation, considering what to do about it, green eyes popped open and studied him in return. She stretched again, arching her back with feline grace, and stood. Walking toward him slowly, she undid a button with every step, and when she stood in front of him, she shrugged the shirt off, letting it pool in a puddle of flannel on the floor behind her. Without even a hint of the old self-consciousness and insecurity she'd always had before, she ran her hands up and down her naked body and asked, "Is this what you want?"  
  
Steve sighed deeply, placed his hands about her slender waist, pulled her close, kissed her navel as she had done to him earlier, and finally, when he had her gasping from the sensations, said in passion-hoarse voice, "If you're up to it."  
  
She took his hands and gently tugged him to his feet. She untied the belt to his robe and pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms until he stood before her naked. For a moment, he felt a flash of shame as he again realized how horrible his battered body looked alongside her glorious beauty. Then, as only she could, Olivia put him at ease.  
  
Briefly touching some of his old wounds, skimming her hands and lips lightly over his marked flesh as if trying to memorize the contours, she breathed, "I really do love every part of you. Never forget that."  
  
Then she took his hand and led him to the bed.  
  
  
  
Winter nights are long up north, and it was still dark when Steve and Liv woke hours later, wrapped in each other's arms. The fire had died down, and they had forgotten to turn on the electric blanket. The room was cold, and, as a result, they both were a little stiff from their nocturnal exertions. Liv looked at the clock, and seeing that it was nearing six, suggested that it was too late to roll over and go back to sleep.  
  
"Why?" Steve nearly whined. "We don't have to be anywhere."  
  
"Maybe not, but I'm much too excited to sleep anymore. I'm going to call Jud and May and tell them we're engaged. Then I'm calling Beechie and Lou, and all the other Cloud Nine girls, and Meyer, and Cecil Bonner in Baltimore, and some of my friends in Chicago, and I have to contact Pastor Brennan, and find a seamstress, and…"  
  
Steve stopped her mouth with a passionate kiss, which she returned enthusiastically before slipping out of bed and wandering to the closet to lay out clothes for the two of them.  
  
"…I have to call Casey and Irene to cater the reception, and rent the church social hall, and…"  
  
Steve sighed, knowing there was no stopping her now. He walked over to where she stood, put his arms around her, and said, "Well, let's get washed up. Then you can make your calls. By the time you're finished, Dad'll be up, and I can call him."  
  
"Steve, do you think if you called all the people you wanted to invite today, and if I handled the airfare, we could get married on Valentine's Day? I want the wedding to be here, in my church, and it would just be too cool to have a Valentine's Day wedding."  
  
Steve let the thought roll around in his head a moment. He ticked off his guests as he spoke their names, "Dad, Jesse and Susan, Amanda and the boys, Jack and a date, Carol, Uncle Stacey, Aunt Dora, Dolores, Norman, and Cheryl. Aunt Dora owns a travel agency, she could organize all the flights, think you could find accommodations for fourteen people?"  
  
Olivia looked at him in consternation. "That's all? I could put them up here at the house."  
  
Steve shrugged, and said, "There are other people I would invite if we had more time, just to be polite, but those fourteen people are the ones I wouldn't think of leaving out. If all of them can make it, we'll do it on Valentine's Day."  
  
Olivia turned in his embrace and pulled his head down for a kiss. "Thank you. Do you know how much I love you?"  
  
He tried one last ploy to get her back into bed. "Mmmm. Why don't you show me?"  
  
"Ok. Later."  
  
Steve groaned and followed her to the bathroom.  
  
He bumped into her beautiful backside as she stopped short in the doorway. The candles had burned down low in the bathroom, but the light reflected in the mirror gave a soft glow to the room.  
  
"Oh, Steve. How romantic!"  
  
He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. "It's probably cold by now."  
  
"Maybe not," she said, stepping over to the tub and dipping the toes of one foot in. "The tub is heated, babe, and it feels pretty good." As she drew a foot out, a rose petal clung to it and mesmerized Steve.  
  
"Go get the champagne, Steve."  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah."  
  
He came back scant moments later to find her waiting for him in the bath. Though the ice had melted, the champagne was still cold, and when he joined Liv in the tub, he found the water was still wonderfully warm. Before long, they were again necking like teenagers.  
  
  
  
When they came out of the bathroom, both dressed in robes and finally fully satiated, at least for the time being, the sun was just rising in the east. Olivia went over to the French doors and stepped barefoot out onto the balcony, pulling Steve along with her. They stood shivering for several minutes as they watched the sun rise over the treetops, Steve with his arms around Liv, and Liv resting her head against his chest, both of them listening to the morning chorus of winter birds in the woods.  
  
"It's cold out here, sweetie."  
  
"Just a little longer, babe."  
  
Suddenly, as if all receiving the order from Mother Nature simultaneously, a mass of tiny black bodies shot up from the treetops and soared toward the house. As they passed overhead, Olivia craned her neck to watch them as far as they would go. Steve smiled as he watched Olivia in her delight.  
  
"Isn't that a glorious way to start the day?"  
  
Steve heartily agreed, though it wasn't the birds that had enthralled him.  
  
"Now," Olivia said, all business, "it's after seven. We need to start making some calls."  
  
By ten o'clock, they had both dressed and Liv had finished most of her calls. The church and the social hall were reserved, the menu was planned, a seamstress had been hired, and the Pastor was engaged. She had promised all the women she would tell them all about how Steve had proposed when they got together for a hastily planned bridal shower later that week, and most of their husbands, brothers, and boyfriends had promised to help Steve's friends plan a helluva bachelor party when they got into town. For most of the calls, Steve joined the conversation on another extension, but when Liv called Keith at May's insistence, Steve discretely made himself scarce.  
  
Wandering in the hall, he noticed the book and the teacup still sitting on the floor, and decided to take them downstairs. He wasn't sure where Liv had gotten the book, but figured the table in the library was as good a place as any to put it. Then he headed to the kitchen to empty the teacup and start some breakfast.  
  
As he hunted in the pantry for some pancake mix, he felt cold air across his bare feet, and decided he would have to find the draft, go to Redmond's hardware store, and get the materials necessary to seal it before everybody came for the wedding. He knew Jesse never wore slippers, and CJ and Dion would want to emulate him. He came out of the pantry and set the pancake mix and a bottle of syrup on the center island. He knew how Liv loved fresh fruit at breakfast, and so he turned to the refrigerator to see what it might hold to go with pancakes. Withdrawing a basket of mixed black and red raspberries, he turned toward the sink to rinse them clean and a crashing blow landed on the back of his skull. 


	37. Whatever It Takes

Chapter 37. (February 6. Liv's house in Pennsylvania.)  
  
As he came to, the first thing Steve knew was that he had a splitting headache and felt nauseous. He opened one eye just a slit and saw that he was lying on a dirty concrete floor. Soon it filtered through that he was cold, had his mouth taped shut, and was bound hand and foot. He tried to kick away the hands that were finishing off the bindings at his feet, and received a powerful kidney punch for his troubles. Suddenly, the world swam around him and he had to repeatedly swallow hard to keep from vomiting into his gag.  
  
He moaned as his captor rolled him over, causing a sharp pain to knife through his skull, and he started gulping again, praying that if he did throw up, his attacker would remove the tape. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up…and up…at the largest human being he had ever seen. He knew it had to be Ted.  
  
'Funny,' Steve thought, 'but he doesn't look crazy.' Ted had dark brown hair that closely matched his own in shade and style. He also wore a closely cropped, well-groomed beard. He was tall (no surprise there), fit, and muscular.  
  
He smiled almost pleasantly, and said, "I know you're Steve. I saw you at Boots the other night. I'm Ted. I'd shake your hand, but I can tell you're just a bit tied up at the moment."  
  
The big man laughed slightly at his own joke before continuing.  
  
"Knowing what you've probably been told about me, I imagine you're afraid that you'll never see Olivia alive again. I promise you that's not true. You'll see her once more, when she makes love to me. I plan to make you watch. It will be your punishment for seducing her away from me. Then I'll get the shotgun from the living room and blow your fucking head off." He spoke in a conversational tone, as if he were telling Steve what errands he had to run in town.  
  
Steve watched as Ted went to the telephone junction box on the wall and tore all the wires from it. A moment later, a voice called to him from down the hall.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"Mmffp!" He tried to warn her, God how he tried, but a kick to the ribs suddenly had him fighting nausea again, and a fist to the jaw knocked him out.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Steve!" Liv called as she padded downstairs. "Pick up the phone in the kitchen and see if you can get a dial tone, please. I just hung up with Keith and was about to call Chicago when the cordless went dead. It's not showing low batt, but it's not working either."  
  
Liv got no answer, but suddenly she knew she was not alone in the eerily silent house. Something cold squirmed in her stomach, and a chill went up her spine. As she turned to run up the stairs, a massive hand closed on her right ankle and she felt the bones grind together. She struggled fiercely, kicking and clawing and squirming, but too frightened to make a sound. Finally, it occurred to her to use the phone as a weapon. She turned on her attacker and clobbered him alongside the head with the cordless, which shattered on impact.  
  
As she watched in horror, the big brute who had been dogging her for over a decade shook off the blow and came at her again. This time she screamed, "Leave me alone," and she turned and ran. Ted caught up with her on the second floor landing, but she turned, scratched at his eyes, braced her back against the wall, and pushed him away with all the strength of her arms and legs. She heard a series of grunts and thuds as he tumbled down the stairs, but she didn't stay to watch. Instead, she ran for all she was worth to get to her .38 from the bedroom.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve was slowly coming to when Liv's screaming brought him fully conscious. Then he heard the sounds of a struggle, someone falling, and someone running. At her house in Brentwood, Liv kept a few carpenter's tools in the utility room. Maybe she did the same here. Squirming around the floor on his chest and knees like an inchworm, alternately fighting nausea and darkening vision, he prayed he could find something to undo his bindings in time to help Liv before he passed out for good.  
  
Finally, he saw something useful. Hanging on the wall in the corner was a rusted old hacksaw. If he could just get it down, he might be able to use it to cut the ropes binding his wrists. Then he could sneak into the living room and get one of the guns Liv had shown him there. He worked his way over to the wall, rolled over, and sat up with his back to it. Then, using the wall for support, he forced himself to stand on rubbery legs.  
  
As he slowly came to his feet, he nearly fell several times. It was difficult enough to balance with his ankles tied, and the nausea and dizziness from what he knew might a serious concussion repeatedly threatened to topple him. Finally, he was standing near the hacksaw, almost balanced, and hadn't puked yet. Now, how to get it down and use it?  
  
He thought a minute, and decided if he turned just right, he could bump the hacksaw off the nail with his elbow and catch it before it hit the floor. The first two tries, he only managed to jostle it a bit, and he knew then he had to do better if he was ever going to help Liv. On the third try, he swung as hard as he could at the hacksaw and was satisfied to hear it fall from the wall. He barely caught it and screamed into the tape covering his mouth as the rusty serrated blade sliced into the fleshy part of his right palm near the thumb.  
  
He heard a gunshot, froze, then began to work frantically at the ropes on his wrists, struggling desperately as both the blade and the bindings became slick with his own blood.  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia made it to the bedroom and pulled her gun from its holster. Then turned and headed back into the hall, terrified as never before, but ready to take the fight right to her attacker. If she hadn't been so frightened, she reasoned later, she would have made him to come to her. As it was, she charged directly at him in the hall, firing as she went.  
  
She heard Ted grunt, and she knew she'd hit him, but it didn't even stop the giant. He came at her without losing a step, and her momentum carried her straight into him. He grabbed her wrist before she could fire again, and wrenched the gun from her hand. She screamed as she felt and heard delicate bones snap. She saw the dark stain spreading on his jeans where her bullet had entered his right thigh, but he was barely limping.  
  
He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, saying, "Come on, O. Last time, it took three slugs and three cops to pull me off you. Do you really think this little peashooter is going to stop me?"  
  
"Give it back to me and we'll find out," she said sarcastically.  
  
He headed back down the stairs, laughing, and said, "I'm glad you still have a sense of humor. I'm sure when this is all over and you realize how much you've always loved me, you'll look back on this and laugh at how silly you've been to try to get away all this time. Of course, if you don't, I'll just take what I want and then slit your throat."  
  
Olivia fell silent and stopped struggling as Ted carried her to the kitchen and sat her in a chair. He placed the gun on the table. Then taking a roll of duct tape, he bound her wrists to the arms of the chair. "I had to use all my rope," he explained. "I met Steve down here just a little while ago. He's tied up in the utility room."  
  
"Teddy, did you hurt him?"  
  
"Oh, forget about him, Olivia. He'll never love you like I do."  
  
"Teddy, I promised his dad I'd look after him. I need to know, did you hurt him?"  
  
Even under the beard, she could see a muscle in Ted's jaw work. He was obviously agitated.  
  
"I knocked him out, O, but he's all right for now."  
  
"Show me, Teddy."  
  
Ted went to the utility room door.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve had just managed to free his wrists when he heard footsteps and voices in the kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Liv's voice, sure and steady, but very tense. Then he heard Ted's heavy footsteps moving towards the door. Knowing he was in no shape to fight the enormous monster, he hid the bloody hacksaw, lay down on his side facing the door, and put his arms behind his back. Just as he got situated, the door opened and Ted stood aside to let Liv look in.  
  
"I told you he's still all in one piece."  
  
"Steve," Liv asked, "you ok?"  
  
He nodded, and Ted shut the door, saying, "We'll see you again after breakfast."  
  
Steve worked frantically, knowing he didn't have much time. From the amount of blood oozing from his hand, he knew he had cut a vein. He had to slow the bleeding, or risk fainting from blood loss at a critical moment. Taking his handkerchief from his hip pocket, he folded it into a square. Then, carefully, painfully pulling the duct tape from his mouth, he used it to hold the handkerchief in place over the wound. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.  
  
Now what? Thinking was difficult with the throbbing in his head, but, as he tore at the ropes binding his ankles, he forced himself to clear the cobwebs and make a plan.  
  
  
  
  
  
"All right, now. It looks like he was getting ready to make pancakes. Is that what you'd like, O? I can make something else if you'd rather. I haven't had much opportunity to cook lately, but I haven't forgotten how."  
  
She thought about saying she'd lost her appetite, but realized she could buy more time if she cooperated.  
  
"Pancakes would be good, Teddy, maybe with some liverwurst and a couple eggs over easy, too. I have some berries in the fridge, and oj. If you let me loose, I could help."  
  
Ted seemed to consider her offer for a moment, but he said, "No, I don't think so, O. Maybe in a couple of weeks, after I've taught you to love me. When I'm sure you won't run, I'll let you loose. Then we can be happy together."  
  
So, he was planning on taking up residence, maybe building a life with her. She could play along with that.  
  
"I suppose you know best, Teddy. We might make a good couple eventually."  
  
Ted hummed as he puttered about the kitchen, and Liv took stock of her situation. Her right ankle was throbbing, and she knew her right hand was broken. She didn't aim worth spit with her left hand, but Ted was close enough, she knew if she could get loose, she'd be able to hit him. Stopping him was another story, but if she could slow him down, she might be able to make a run for it and lead him away from Steve.  
  
Meanwhile, she decided to play along with his little fantasy. She knew she would be safer if she didn't anger Ted. Every time he turned his back, she worked at the tape on her left wrist, but when he looked at her or spoke to her, she tried to smile and act casual. It wasn't easy; time was running out, and she was beginning to panic. She had to get loose; she had to do something.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve considered using the secret passage Liv had shown him to go upstairs for his cell phone and call 911, but he decided against it on the grounds that the battery could be dead, he might be heard moving around upstairs if the floors creaked, and being surrounded by mountains, he might not be able to get a signal. Besides, time was running short and he had to act fast.  
  
He decided to take the passage downstairs. That way he could come up at the living room, get the rifle or the shotgun out of the cabinet, and if luck was with him, he could take Ted by surprise before he did anything to Liv. It took him a moment to figure out how to open the secret door from the outside, and when he did, he cringed as it squeaked open. Grabbing the hacksaw, he froze and waited to see if Ted had heard the noise and was coming to investigate. All he heard was Liv saying something about berries.  
  
'That's good, Liv,' he mentally praised her. 'Keep him occupied. Buy me some time and I *will* get us out of this.'  
  
He breathed a silent prayer and pulled the secret door shut behind him. There was no sense making it easy for Ted to find him if he should look in. The he opened the trap door in the floor and climbed down to the basement, gritting his teeth each time he had to grip a ladder rung with his injured hand. When he felt no more ladder rungs beneath his feet, he hung by his hands and eased himself down one rung at a time, wishing he had remembered to drop the rope Liv had used earlier. Finally, when there were no more handholds, he let himself drop the remaining distance to the floor.  
  
Again, he struggled for a moment to open the door, but this time, when he found the secret, the door opened silently. He closed it behind himself and swiftly made his way through the basement. He stepped into the rumpus room before heading up the stairs and grabbed a baseball bat from the box of sports equipment, just in case he didn't make it to the gun cabinet.  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia was making good progress with her bonds; her left arm was almost free. Unfortunately, Ted was also making good progress with breakfast. She hoped he decided to feed her rather than let her loose to feed herself. If he decided to free her, he would notice the loose duct tape and there was no telling what would happen then. She prayed she would be free by then.  
  
"Aw, damn!"  
  
Liv jumped, then asked, "What is it, Teddy?"  
  
"I broke the egg yolks, O. I know how much you like to dip your pancake in the centers, so I'm just going to throw these out and start over, ok, sweetie?"  
  
She gave him her most grateful smile and said, "Thanks, Teddy. It's very sweet of you to remember that."  
  
He flashed her a brilliant grin and turned back to the stove.  
  
Liv rolled her eyes heavenward in a quick prayer of thanksgiving and went to work on her left wrist again. She should have just enough time.  
  
  
  
  
  
As he reached the top of the stairs, Steve heard Ted curse. Immediately he headed to the kitchen, bat at the ready, but froze in his tracks when he heard Liv speak in a polite tone. He heard the sounds of a brief conversation, and everything went silent. He hoped Liv was safe for now.  
  
Stalking silently back the hall, Steve went into the living room and went directly to the gun cabinet. Where the *hell* was the key? Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what Liv had told him on the grand tour. Swiftly moving to the near fireplace, he opened an ornately carved box. It looked like African walnut, and suddenly his adrenaline level jumped several notches higher as he remembered his various run-ins with the Sweeny family. Then, whether due to fear or his concussion Steve would never know, he had to vomit. It was ironic how quickly the memory of one particular hell could make another so much worse.  
  
He gulped hard several times and looked around, trying to figure out what to do about the problem. When his eyes fell on an enormous potted plant in the corner, he smiled in spite of everything. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, he steadied his jangled nerves, took the key from the box, and opened the gun cabinet.  
  
'Shotgun or rifle?' he wondered. If he was too far away and used the shotgun, Liv might catch some of the stray buckshot. If he used the rifle and Liv was behind Ted in the line of fire, the bullet could go right through him and wound her as well. He decided to load them both, leave the shotgun in the hall nearby, and use the rifle first. Kenney had said Liv would keep her head in a crisis. He was counting on that now and trusting that she would hit the floor when he told her to do so.  
  
  
  
  
  
'Thank you, God,' Olivia thought as she finally got her left wrist loose.  
  
"How are the eggs coming, Teddy?"  
  
"Just a minute more, sweetie. After breakfast I was thinking we might go upstairs and I could show you why you really should be with me instead of Steve in there," Ted said, jerking his head toward the door.  
  
'God forgive me,' she thought, 'but I'll do whatever it takes to stop him.'  
  
She managed to swiftly unwind the tape from her broken hand without crying out, and as Ted turned to her with their plates full of food; she grabbed the .38 from the table, guided it to aim for his knee with her right hand and pulled the trigger with her left.  
  
"You whore!" he screamed as his left knee gave way. The food spilled, and he stumbled, but he didn't go down.  
  
"I don't want to do this Teddy, but I won't let you hurt me, and I can't let you hurt Steve."  
  
Cursing and fuming, Ted recovered his footing and advanced on Olivia. She moved toward the mudroom door, but stood her ground. She fired again, this time getting him in the left thigh. A red stain blossomed around the wound to match the one she'd made earlier in his left leg.  
  
"I'd much rather fuck you alive and keep you around, O, but at this point I'm willing to take you dead. You can't stop me without killing me, bitch, and whether you want to admit it or not, you love me too much to do that."  
  
She aimed for his right knee, saying, "I'm willing to admit that I love you Teddy. I always have, like a brother." She was sobbing now. "That's why it hurts me so much when you do stupid things like this. Please stop, Teddy. Don't make me hurt you again."  
  
He continued advancing, and she edged her way along the wall. She wanted to go into the mudroom, but the door was closed. With only one good hand, there was no way she could open the door and keep Ted covered. As Ted moved around the table toward her, she fired. Her shot strayed low, grazing his calf instead of taking out his knee as she'd intended.  
  
"Two left, you little slut, what's it going to be? Kill me or let me have what I want?"  
  
"Teddy, please," she sobbed as she fired again, this time aiming high and catching him in the shoulder.  
  
Ted grunted, and looked at the bloodstain spreading on his shirt. He continued to advance, and Olivia backed away from him around the table and toward the hall. She had one bullet left, and she was thinking frantically of a way to avoid using it. She would not leave Ted alive in this house if he could hurt Steve, but God in Heaven, she didn't want to kill Ted either.  
  
As she neared the hallway, a noise distracted her and she saw Ted look at something behind her. Her attention wavered for just a second, but in that moment, Ted reacted with terrible swiftness. His massive hand closed on her left wrist, and the gun was twisted from her broken right hand. She screamed as the fractured bones tore at the soft tissue surrounding them. Ted pulled her close to him and aimed at a target behind her.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve had almost finished loading the shotgun when he heard the first shot. He listened tensely as he shoved the last shell in and took up both weapons. From the sounds of cursing, crying, and conversation, he could tell Liv had the gun and Ted had been wounded. He heard a second shot as he sprinted down the hall, and a third as he worked his way to the corner of the wall nearest the kitchen. The one she fired upstairs made four, and she had two left. Steve smiled, figuring between Liv and him, they were going to get through this.  
  
Silently, he put the shotgun down, leaning it against the wall. He heard another shot, and a grunt, but he didn't hear a body fall. 'What the hell's it going to take to put that big bastard down,' Steve wondered. He guessed Liv and Ted must be somewhere near the mudroom wall because he could see most of the rest of the kitchen from where he was, and they were nowhere in sight. He gripped the rifle, ready to fire, and stepped away from his cover.  
  
The sudden movement proved too much for his battered skull and queasy stomach. He gasped as he fought yet another wave of nausea, and in that moment, everything went to hell. Liv glanced toward him, and as she did, Ted grabbed the revolver from her hand and pulled her against him. She screamed. Steve heard the gun discharge and a split second later felt a burning pain in his shoulder. Keeping hold of the rifle, he dropped and rolled, regained his uncertain footing, grabbed the shotgun as he ran back the hall, and ducked into the mudroom.  
  
He locked the door behind him, sprinted across the room, put the shotgun on top the washer, opened the door to the kitchen, and aimed the rifle. Ted was waiting for him. He'd discarded the empty handgun, and was holding Liv before him as a shield.  
  
"Put the rifle down, Steve, or I snap her neck like a dry twig," the big man ordered.  
  
"Can't do that, Ted. You'll kill her and me anyway. I've got to try to stop you."  
  
"Steve, please, wait," Olivia pleaded. "Teddy, I'll give you anything you want, just let Steve walk out of here."  
  
"I'm not leaving without you, Liv."  
  
The giant seemed to think it over, but rejected the suggestion. "I've got to kill him, O," he said as if reasoning with an unruly child. "As long as he's alive you'll love him, and you'll never get the chance to find out how much you really love me. It has to be that way, sweetie. Besides, you heard him. He's not leaving without you."  
  
"I'm sorry, Teddy. I should have realized long ago how much I care for you, but if you let him go, he'll head back to California, and eventually I'll forget all about him. Please, Teddy, if you kill him, you'll go back to jail. I don't want that. I want you here."  
  
"No way, O, he's got to die."  
  
Steve noticed Olivia crook a finger at him, beckoning him forward. Her hands were close to her body and down at her sides, and, not being sure of what he saw, Steve hesitated. Liv's eyes grew huge and pleading as the finger waved more frantically. Finally, he took a step, hoping she would create an opening for him. As Steve advanced, Ted stepped back, and when he was off balance, with most of his weight on his injured knee, Liv fought like a wild creature.  
  
She bashed her head against his chest, drove an elbow into his gut and a fist into his jaw, and kicked back at his groin. She almost got loose, but he caught her around the waist and drew her back against him. She hung forward over his arm and started kicking and pounding her fists at the bullet wounds in his legs.  
  
Steve saw his opening, yelled, "Stay down," and fired a round into the big man's chest. He worked the bolt to eject the spent cartridge, aimed again, and to his horror, as he fired Ted staggered back and Olivia, flopping about in his arms like a rag doll, came up into the line of fire. He heard her yelp and Ted grunt, and they both toppled backwards to the floor.  
  
For a moment, only silence and the smell of cordite hung in the air. Then the calm was pierced by the high, thin wail of a distant siren. A moment later, it was joined by another screaming voice, this one hoping by sheer volume to deny the enormity of what had just happened. 


	38. Aftermath

Chapter 38. (February 6 & 7. Olivia's house, then the county hospital.)  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Olivia, as she scooted across the floor on her knees check Ted for a pulse. Blood welled up between her fingers as she put pressure on the bullet holes in Ted's chest and sobbed, "Please, Teddy, don't go. Don't die on me."  
  
The giant groaned as she pressed on his wounds.  
  
"Steve!" Olivia's voice cut the air as her whole demeanor changed and she started giving orders, "I need towels. They're in the top drawer to the right of the sink. Give me as many as you can find."  
  
Ted whimpered, "God, O, it hurts so much."  
  
"I know, Teddy," she soothed, "but I have to slow the bleeding. You're in a bad way."  
  
"I know," he agreed. After a pause, he added, "I'm going to die."  
  
"Steve, where the hell are those towels?"  
  
Over the wail of the arriving siren, he shouted, "Right here!"  
  
The siren stopped, and now the only sound was the rasping breath of a dying man. After a moment, a pounding on the door disrupted the quiet.  
  
Steve called out, "It's over guys, come on in."  
  
Beechie and Kenney came in to secure the scene, and Live barked out, "Call an ambulance. Caucasian male, thirty-eight years old, multiple GSW to chest and extremities. Losing blood fast. I'll need eight units of O-Neg and an OR standing by."  
  
As Kenney hustled out to make the call, Beechie sat Steve down and checked over his wounds. The rules of triage demanded he help those who could be helped first, and O was too intent on trying to save a dead man to let him do anything for her. He folded up a clean towel and used another to bind it in place to maintain pressure on Steve's shoulder wound. Then he found a bag of frozen peas to use as an icepack for the knot on his head. Finally, he got some wet paper towels and washed the cut on Steve's palm and dressed the wound with a sterile gauze pad from the first-aid kit Kenney had finally brought in.  
  
Keith came in through the mudroom and stood in the doorway, watching.  
  
"It's getting hard to breathe, O."  
  
"Blood's filling your chest cavity, Teddy." Looking wildly around, she started pointing and issuing orders again.  
  
"I need to do a chest tube." Pointing to the sink, she ordered, "Cut the spray nozzle off and cut me a foot of hose." Indicating the cutlery set on the counter, she demanded, "I need the fillet knife, too."  
  
She turned back to her patient, fully expecting her orders to be followed. When no one jumped to do her bidding, she exclaimed, "Come on, people, MOVE!"  
  
Ted stilled her hands from unbuttoning his shirt, then his hands fell back to his sides. Gasping, he told her, "It's over…O…I'm done."  
  
As he watched, Steve became aware of the change in the monster that had wreaked so much havoc this morning. He was no longer angry or violent, and it wasn't just the change that sometimes comes over a dying man at the end. Ted was sane. His last moments on earth were to be lucid and clear- headed. Steve felt a knot form in his throat and tears sting his eyes. He couldn't decide if it was a cruel or a kind twist of fate.  
  
"You are not going to die in my kitchen, Theodore Roosevelt Baer," Olivia insisted as she began crying again. "Not if I can help it."  
  
Keith came over and awkwardly eased himself to the floor beside Ted and Liv. In that moment, the rest of the world receded, and it was just the three of them, TKO, like it used to be, but gone terribly, terribly wrong. Olivia's bloodied hands still rested on her old friend's chest when Keith covered them with his own and said, "He's right, O. It snowed most of last night, and the roads are a mess. It'll take the ambulance at least half an hour to get here. He'll never make it. There's nothing you can do."  
  
Tears streaming down her face, Olivia whispered, "I have to do something."  
  
Wheezing softly, Ted told her, "You're here…enough."  
  
As he brought his hands up to Keith and Liv's, she nodded her understanding.  
  
Looking at Keith, Ted asked, "I made this happen?"  
  
Keith nodded and said kindly, "I'm afraid so, buddy. You went off your meds."  
  
Ted began to tremble, and without hesitation, Keith removed his coat and covered his dying friend. "Better?"  
  
Ted nodded, and closed his eyes for a moment.  
  
Liv gently felt for a pulse at his neck, and when her eyes met Keith's, she said, "Still there." She scooted around to cradle his head in her lap.  
  
For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were little sobs from Liv, Keith's sniffles, and the sound of Ted's labored breathing. Then Ted seemed to rally for a moment.  
  
"I'm scared, guys! I don't want to go to hell. Please don't let me die like this!"  
  
Olivia hushed him. "It's ok, Teddy, it's ok."  
  
The exertion of shouting left him gasping for breath again when he pleaded, "But O…how can…God…forgive me?"  
  
"Shhhh," she hushed him. "I've forgiven you Teddy, and so has Keith."  
  
Ted rolled his eyes to Keith for confirmation, and the deputy nodded. "You weren't yourself, pal. You couldn't help it."  
  
"Now, think, Teddy, if two flawed and selfish mortals can forgive you, how much greater will God's boundless and perfect forgiveness be?"  
  
"But what…if He doesn't…forgive me?" Ted's breathing was becoming more labored and erratic with each word. It wouldn't be long now.  
  
"Just ask him, Ted, and he will," Keith advised.  
  
Staring heavenward, tears streaming from his unseeing eyes, Ted did just that. "God…sorry…please forgive…" He mouthed the word "me," but had no breath left to finish it.  
  
Between hiccoughing sobs, Liv smoothed the sweat soaked hair from her friend's forehead and uttered words of comfort as Keith gently stroked his arm and held his hand.  
  
"It's ok, Teddy, we forgive you. I forgive you, and I love you. When I think of you, I'll only remember the good times. I promise I'll always think of you and what it was like before you got sick. I love you Teddy, and Keith and I forgive you and God forgives you. I promise, Teddy. I promise." Tears fell from her face and onto his as she told him over and over that he was loved and forgiven.  
  
The giant smiled gratefully at his friends, gave one last, rasping sigh, and fell still. Olivia gently closed his eyes, and Keith covered him with a blanket Kenney had brought from his car. For a long while after that, the only sound was a woman's quiet weeping.  
  
  
  
  
  
Beechie and Kenney took statements from Steve and Olivia while they waited for the ambulance. Kenney explained that after Liv had spoken to Keith, he'd realized he'd forgotten to congratulate her, and when he tried to call back and got no answer, he knew something was wrong. He couldn't convince the sheriff, though until one of Liv's neighbors had called reporting gunshots. Then it was just a matter of negotiating the slippery roads.  
  
When the ambulance finally arrived, there was some debate about who should ride in it.  
  
"Put Ted on the gurney."  
  
"No, O," Kenney told her, "I called for a hearse. It should be here within the hour. You and Steve should go."  
  
"Ok, then Steve should ride. I'll take the jeep and follow along."  
  
"No way, Liv," Steve insisted. "You've been shot." Steve carefully avoided saying, 'I shot you.' The thought alone sickened him, and given the condition he was in already, that was a recipe for disaster.  
  
She looked at her bloodied bicep and acknowledged her injury for the first time. "Hmmm. So, that's what it feels like." She shrugged, "Bullet went straight through, nothing's broken, and the bleeding's stopped. Hurts like the dickens, but I'll be fine." She screwed up her face in confusion and asked, "How did it happen anyway?"  
  
Steve visibly paled at her question and said simply, "I'll tell you later. Now why don't you lie down and let the paramedics look after you, sweetheart?"  
  
"A concussion and a bullet hole beats just a bullet hole any day, Steve. You take the gurney."  
  
The argument finally ended when Beechie pulled rank.  
  
"Lieutenant Sloan, you are on loan to the Clearfield County Sheriff's Department from the LAPD, and local authority prevails. That makes me the ranking officer here. I suspect you're in shock. That bullet is still in your shoulder, probably making a mess of things. You can barely stand, and three times since I've been here, I've noticed you swallowing like you're trying not to puke. You squint at the light, and that means you have a concussion. You can lie down on that gurney now, or I can help the paramedics make you."  
  
Steve cast Olivia a dark look as she gave a satisfied, "Hmph," but he took his place on the gurney without another word. He knew he was in no shape to struggle with Beechie.  
  
"It's all right, baby," Olivia reassured him as she grabbed her purse and reached for her keys by the kitchen door. "I'll be right behind you in the jeep, and I'll make sure they treat you real good at the hospital."  
  
As gently as possible, Beechie stopped her and indicated her right hand.  
  
"O, if the swelling is any indication, that hand is busted. You've also been shot, and I know you're in shock."  
  
"I'm fine, Beechie."  
  
"Olivia," he said softly, "one of your oldest friends just died in your arms, at the hands of your fiancé, because he was going to rape you and kill both of you. When all that hits home, you're going to fall apart. He rides on the gurney only because of that knot on his head. You ride up front with the driver."  
  
If she hadn't looked so pathetic with her lower lip stuck out in a pout, and if he hadn't known how serious the situation really was, Steve would have indulged in a "Hmph" of his own. As it was, he was simply grateful Beechie was making sure she got the necessary medical attention.  
  
Liv looked thoughtful for a moment before she conceded, "I guess I am just running on adrenaline right now, huh?"  
  
"Yes, O, you are," Beechie was using the patient tone of a parent with a child.  
  
"Ok, I'll go in the ambulance, but I want to stay with Steve until I see his CAT scan and the x-ray of that shoulder. I can't operate with a busted hand, but I can sure as heck advise and supervise if need be."  
  
"No promises, Olivia."  
  
She gave Beechie a disgusted look, but didn't argue as she climbed into the cab of the ambulance and only let the driver buckle her in after she tried to do it herself and yelped in pain at the complaints of her broken hand. Keith rode with Beechie, and they left Kenney to wait for the hearse.  
  
As they loaded him into the ambulance, Steve asked, "What time is it?"  
  
"Ten fifty-seven," the attendant said, glancing at his watch once the gurney was situated. "Why?"  
  
"I just spent less than an hour in hell, and it feels like I've been there all my life," Steve sighed.  
  
"No offense, sir, and not to make light of your injuries, but think of how it's going to feel to Dr. O when she finally realizes what's happened. I hear she's been dodging Ted Baer for over a decade."  
  
Steve didn't know what to say back, so he lapsed into silence, simply grateful that he and Olivia were alive.  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time they reached the hospital, Olivia was sound asleep in the front of the ambulance. She didn't even twitch when Beechie lifted her out and carried her to an examination room. Steve was carted off for x-rays and a CAT scan, and then he was taken to surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder. When he came to in the recovery room, he was at first surprised to see a young man with dark crew-cut hair and dark eyes watching him instead of his dad, but then he recalled what had happened.  
  
Steve looked the younger man over and said, "Fancy meeting you here."  
  
Keith gave him a reluctant smile and said, "It should have been me. The least I could do was be here when you woke up, and I figured O probably wouldn't want you to wake up alone and hurting in a strange place."  
  
"I appreciate it. How is Liv, and why isn't she here?"  
  
A shadow crossed Keith's face unnoticed and he said, "She's still sleeping. How are you feeling?"  
  
Steve narrowed his eyes and asked, "Do you really care?"  
  
Keith noticed there was no sarcasm in Steve's voice, just genuine curiosity. A grin split his face and he said quietly, "Yeah, in spite of my best intentions, beach bum, I really do give a damn."  
  
Steve smiled back weakly and said, "Well, in that case, I feel just a little better knowing that you do."  
  
"You're a good guy, and I just can't help myself."  
  
Both men laughed at his remark, then Steve asked, "Why aren't you with Liv?"  
  
"Look, beach bum, for twelve years I've prayed every day that Olivia would come back home to me. Never once in all that time did I dream that she would come home with the likes of you, but you treat her well. You make her happy. God knows everyone can tell you love her. I can live with that. It's all I ever wanted for her. I just thought I would be the one who did all those things for her. I never imagined that she would move on in the world without me. As long as you're good to her, we'll get along."  
  
"Uh, thanks, Keith. But I meant why aren't you sitting with Liv now?"  
  
Keith flushed a bit and said, "I know, but I just had to get that off my chest."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Why aren't you with Liv?"  
  
The shadow came over Keith's face again, and this time Steve realized something was wrong. "Keith?" he demanded, trying to sit up but being forced to lie still by the nausea that was still plaguing him. "What's the matter with her?"  
  
Keith took a deep breath and said, "I will only tell you if you give me your word that you will stay right here until the doctor gives you the ok to go to her. If you try something stupid like running out of here to go sit by her side before you can safely stand up, I will call the orderly and have him strap you down, got it?"  
  
Steve nodded his understanding.  
  
"I have your word?"  
  
"Yes. Now what the hell's wrong with her?"  
  
"She seems to be in a coma, and we don't know why."  
  
Keith was touched by the anguish he saw as Steve closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. When he looked at Keith again, his eyes were red-rimmed, but he was in control.  
  
"What do we know?"  
  
"The CAT scan shows no brain injury of any kind. Nothing from the action today, nothing from other causes. She didn't lose much blood from the gunshot, and they never put her under general anesthetic."  
  
"What do they think has happened?"  
  
Keith shrugged, "There's no apparent reason for it. The best anyone has suggested is the stress was too much for her and she went into hiding inside her own head."  
  
Steve thought a moment, and said, "She told me she slept for days after her house burned, but I think they drugged her then."  
  
Keith nodded, "I think you're right, but I can't imagine they sedated her that heavily. Maybe this is the same kind of thing. I'll have them check her records."  
  
The two men sat in silence for a few moments. Then Steve said, "Keith?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I appreciate your sitting with me, but I'd feel better knowing you had them check on Liv. Could you do that and then go sit with her, please?"  
  
"Ok. Anything I can do for you first?"  
  
"Not right now, thanks, but I'd like to call my dad after they move me to a room. Can you make sure the operator will let me make a long distance call?"  
  
Keith nodded, "I'll give her my calling card number. When you call the switchboard, ask for Meg Baer."  
  
Steve tensed at the name. "That's Ted's sister, isn't it?"  
  
Keith nodded. "She's a gem, Steve. Don't hold what Ted did against her."  
  
"Ok. Thanks, Keith, for everything." Steve did not fail to note that it was the first time since they'd met that Keith had called him by name.  
  
  
  
  
  
Several hours later, Steve was resting comfortably in his own room. The only thing keeping him there was the doctor's promise that if he rested until dinnertime, he'd let Steve go sit with Liv undisturbed for the rest of the evening. Until then, he was comfortable knowing that Keith, Kenney, Beechie, Jud, May, and other friends of hers were taking turns watching over her. At least if she woke up, she wouldn't be alone.  
  
He picked up the phone and dialed the switchboard. As he waited for the operator, he wondered why Meg Baer was still at work. He also wondered why she would help him. He'd just killed her brother, and she should be with her family. He was startled when a voice finally came on the line.  
  
"Clearfield County Hospital. How may I direct your call?  
  
"Meg Baer, please."  
  
"This is Meg. How can I help you?"  
  
Steve introduced himself and gave her several numbers to try to reach his dad.  
  
"Ok…Steve. I'll find him for you, and I'll ring your room when I've got him on the line. Until then, you just rest, all right?"  
  
"Um, yeah, and thanks." The girl didn't hang up right away, so Steve asked what he'd been wondering earlier. "Meg?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You know what I did, don't you?"  
  
A pause. "Yes." She didn't sound angry or upset.  
  
"I'm sorry, Meg."  
  
A much longer pause, and then she spoke with a tremor in her voice.  
  
"You didn't kill Teddy, Steve. Schizophrenia did that twelve years ago when it took his mind. You just stopped the monster that had been using him."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"I…I'm glad you were there to help Olivia. I've heard they'll let you see her after dinner."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, I'm off at six. I'll stop by before I go. I'll probably meet you then."  
  
Steve found himself smiling. "Ok."  
  
"Now, let me find your dad for you. I'm sure you'll feel much better after you talk to him."  
  
"You're probably right. Thanks again."  
  
A few minutes later, the phone rang, and when Steve answered it, his dad wasted no time getting to the point.  
  
"Steve, what happened? Why are you in the hospital? Are you and Olivia ok?"  
  
"It's a long story, Dad. I'll be just fine."  
  
Mark knew from what wasn't said, that there was more.  
  
"How's Olivia?"  
  
"We're…" Steve's voice cracked, and he tried again. "We're not sure. She's comatose and no one knows why."  
  
"Hold on a second, son."  
  
Steve heard his dad mutter a few words, and when he came back on, he told Steve exactly what he needed to hear.  
  
"Jesse's booking me on the next available flight to Pittsburgh, son. Now, from the beginning, tell me what happened."  
  
Steve sighed with relief, and in fits and starts, fighting tears the entire time, he told his dad the whole, awful story.  
  
"I had to do it, Dad. I didn't want to, but she'd shot him five times, and couldn't take him down."  
  
"You had no choice, son."  
  
"Liv was amazing. She fought like hell and never gave him an inch. I could hear them struggling all through the house. She actually created an opening for me to fire, and that's when I got him."  
  
"She's a smart girl, Steve. She knew what had to be done."  
  
"It makes me sick that I hurt her by accident."  
  
"She'll understand, son. It was unavoidable."  
  
Steve was silent a long time, and then he said, "Something else happened, Dad. I don't know what to make of it."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Well, when it was all over, she tried to save him."  
  
"She's a doctor, Steve," Mark said, mildly amused in spite of all he'd heard, "That's what doctors do."  
  
"I know, Dad," Steve said with an exasperated sigh. "But there's more. When she realized she couldn't save him, she told him she loved him and she forgave him. And she *meant* it, Dad, because she *promised* him. She and Keith both *forgave* him. After all he had done to them both, they gave him his dying wish and forgave him."  
  
"It sounds like that troubles you, son."  
  
It was a long time before Steve responded, and when he did, his voice was filled with dismay.  
  
"I don't know if I could have done that, Dad. I know Olivia's really good inside…righteous is the word for it, I guess. Like the Golden Rule and turn the other cheek. I've known that for a long time, but Keith surprised me. He was right there, too, and when Ted got cold, he covered him with his coat. He held the guy's hand and told him it was all ok." Steve wanted to say more, but he choked on his words.  
  
Mark filled the silence. "He's Olivia's friend, Steve. They're probably a lot alike, and he has history with Ted, just like Olivia."  
  
"When I woke up after surgery, he was here so I wouldn't be alone, and he set it up so I could call you."  
  
"What are you trying to say, son?"  
  
After an extended silence, with a sigh of resignation, Steve admitted the thought that had been on his mind since he watched Ted die. "I could never have forgiven Ted, and I don't think I would have been as nice to Keith as he was to me if the situation had been reversed. He's a really good guy, Dad. I'm not that good, that kind, and decent. I guess…well…Keith's a better man than I am, Dad, and I feel a little ashamed."  
  
"And you're afraid that he might be better for Olivia, too, aren't you?"  
  
That was the crux of the problem, wasn't it?  
  
"I guess so, kind of."  
  
"Steve, you listen to me," his dad said gravely. "You are my son, and I love you, but right now, I'm talking man to man. You are as good as they come, Steve. He is no better. He was able to forgive Ted because he had a history with the man. He knows about his redeeming qualities, you don't. If it had been Jesse, or Jack Stewart, you'd have forgiven him."  
  
"I don't know, Dad."  
  
"Well, I do. And as for him sitting with you, he probably knew that's what Olivia would want."  
  
Steve smiled into the phone then, and even though he was three thousand miles away, Mark could still hear him brighten. "He did mention that. Thanks, Dad."  
  
"You're welcome, son. Now, I have to go pack. I'll see you in a few hours."  
  
"Ok, see you soon, and don't forget a heavy coat and some long underwear."  
  
Mark chuckled, "I won't son."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve woke to the sound of subdued voices nearby. He opened his eyes to find himself sitting in a chair beside Liv's bed, still holding her hand. He had no idea how long ago he'd fallen asleep like that. He looked around to find the source of the voices, and saw Jud tap his dad on the arm and point in his direction.  
  
Mark came over to greet him, saying, "Hello, son. How are you feeling?"  
  
Steve rose, slowly, and was pleased to notice he didn't feel nauseous this time.  
  
"I've got a headache and I'm sore, Dad, but I'm doing all right. It's good to see you."  
  
Needing some kind of physical comfort, Steve reached out to his dad for a hug, and Mark responded carefully so as not to jostle his injured shoulder. Stepping back from the embrace, Mark studied his son's face carefully and asked, "Are you sure you're ok?"  
  
Steve nodded, and was punished with a minor bout of dizziness. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine." He reassured Mark when he recovered. "Why so worried?"  
  
"Well, this is the first serious action you've seen since the shooting, and…"  
  
"Oh, yeah. I hadn't even thought of that, Dad. I think I'm fine, but if there's trouble, I'll let you know."  
  
Mark squeezed his good shoulder and nodded as Steve turned to include Jud in their conversation. "I see you two have met."  
  
"Yep," Jud responded, "I picked him up at the airport."  
  
Confused, Steve asked, "I didn't even tell anybody he was flying in, how did you know?"  
  
Mark chuckled and said, "That switchboard operator is one heck of a watchdog, son. When Jesse called to give you my flight information, she said, 'Detective Sloan is resting now, and I'd rather not disturb him. If you'll leave your name and number, I'll have him call you back at dinnertime.' When Jesse explained the situation, she said, 'Well, I'm sure you don't expect Detective Sloan to meet the plane in his condition, so why bother him with the details,' and she connected him with Jud instead."  
  
Jud laughed, "That's Meg. She takes it personally when someone disturbs the patients with trivial stuff."  
  
Changing the subject, Steve looked from his dad to Olivia and asked, "Technically, you're her personal physician, right, Dad?"  
  
"I guess so, why?"  
  
"Would you examine her? I'll feel better knowing you've checked her over."  
  
Jud excused himself to get a cup of coffee while Mark did as his son asked, then pulled up a chair, and sat down to talk.  
  
"Her condition's stable, son. Heart rate and respiration are good. Blood pressure's fine. Except for her obvious injuries nothing's wrong."  
  
"Then why's she in a coma, Dad?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Can you tell me how long it will last?"  
  
Mark shook his head, and when he saw his son fighting tears, he put his arms around him again.  
  
  
  
Late the next morning, Steve woke up in his own room with his dad by his side. He couldn't remember leaving Liv's room and his dad explained that he'd been half asleep and had just taken some pain medication for his shoulder when they talked him into getting some real rest. Liv's friends had taken shifts through the night, and she'd never been alone.  
  
After breakfast, a shave, and a change into the pajamas and robe his dad had brought from home, Steve went to spend the day at Liv's bedside.  
  
"She looks so frail, Dad."  
  
"That's just because she's so small, son. She's really doing quite well, and I suspect she's a lot tougher than anyone's ever given her credit for."  
  
"Then why isn't she waking up?"  
  
Mark shook his head and shrugged.  
  
A voice from the hall said, "I think it's just her way of dealing with stress. She's done this a time or two before. Scares the snot out of the rest of us, but she wakes feeling fine."  
  
A pretty, young woman with shiny brown hair and a round face walked into the room and extended her hand, first to Steve, then to Mark. "You must be Steve, which means you're Dr. Sloan. I'm Meg Baer. I did drop by last night, Steve, but you were already asleep in the chair, and since you didn't hear me come in, I decided it was best not to disturb you."  
  
Mark looked askance, and grinning, Steve said, "The watchdog."  
  
Now it was Meg's turn to be confused until Mark explained.  
  
"Thank you for looking out for my son, Meg," Mark said with a smile.  
  
"After what my brother put him through, letting him sleep was the least I could do."  
  
"Your brother?" Mark asked, and then said in shock, "Ted?"  
  
Meg nodded.  
  
"I'm very sorry for your loss."  
  
Meg wiped away a stray tear and said, "Thank you. It hurts some, but I've been missing my brother for years because of his illness, Dr. Sloan. His death just sort of finalized something that started a long time ago."  
  
Turning to Steve, she said, "I have been sent as a messenger from the gang. They figure if you hear this from me, you'll believe it. We have all been talking, and we've decided if you and Liv are willing, the wedding is still on for Valentine's Day."  
  
Mark's eyebrows shot up at this new information, and Steve explained briefly.  
  
"I proposed and she accepted a couple nights ago, Dad. When we woke up the next morning, it was too early to call California. It would have been something like three o'clock. So, we decided that after she made all her calls, I would start making mine. Ted clobbered me before I had the chance to call you, and after it was all over, well, other things seemed more important."  
  
Mark nodded. "I understand, son."  
  
"Anyway," Meg continued, "we figure red and white will be the right colors, and when she called Lou she mentioned that she wanted the cloud nine girls to be bridesmaids along with someone named Amanda. We figured if you would contact her, we could get her measurements and have a dress made for her to try on by the time she arrived. Her little boy…"  
  
"CJ?" Steve asked.  
  
"Yeah, I think so. Anyway, Liv wants him to be the ring bearer."  
  
A weak voice came from the bed saying, "Dark red and ivory, satin backed crepe and velvet trim, empire waists and long skirts, sweetheart necklines. No butt bows or pouffy sleeves. I want Dion to tend the guest book." Opening her eyes, Olivia said, "Hi, Meg. It's good to see you. I'm sorry about Ted. When's the service?"  
  
Meg and Liv talked for several minutes with Steve and Mark watching and grinning. Olivia promised to be at the funeral, and she questioned Meg closely to make sure she and her brother Tom and their parents were ok with the wedding following so hard on the heels of Ted's death. Then they made Liv an appointment to get measured for her wedding gown and discussed wedding plans and bridesmaids' dresses until Mark and Steve got bored and interrupted.  
  
After Meg left, Steve and Mark tried to get Liv to rest.  
  
"Come on, guys," she whined. "If what you lead me to believe is true, I've been asleep for a day and a half, I'm getting married in a week, and I haven't even been measured for my dress yet. Now is not the time for rest."  
  
"Olivia," Mark said sternly, "You know as well as I do that a coma is *not* the same as rest."  
  
She turned her most pitiful look on her future father-in-law and said, "Give me the telephone, my purse, and two hours, and I promise I'll do nothing but lie here helplessly for the rest of the day…Dad." She gave a sweet smile, and Mark's heart melted.  
  
"I know what you're doing, Olivia," he said.  
  
Smiling wider as Steve watched, she said, "And you're powerless to resist, aren't you?"  
  
"Two hours," Mark said. "Not a minute more."  
  
"Ok, Dad," she grinned.  
  
"Thanks, Dad," Steve added with a smile.  
  
Shaking a warning finger at his son, Mark said laughingly, "You, I can still resist, and when she goes to sleep, you go back to your room for some rest, too, mister."  
  
"Ok." Turning to Olivia, Steve handed over her purse and asked, "Why don't Dad and I go call Jesse, Amanda, and the rest of my guests while you make your calls, then we can talk until your two hours is up?"  
  
Liv nodded. "Sounds good," she said, taking out a credit card and handing it to him. Then she took a small notepad out of her purse and wrote down some names and phone numbers. "If you aunt can't arrange the flights on such short notice, that card should be enough to rent a private jet. Have her make flight arrangements for the people on that list, too, first class all the way for everyone. Ask her to try to have them all arrive on the same day, and see if she can arrange some kind of meet-and-greet reception at one of the airport hotels. Come back in about forty-five minutes, ok?"  
  
Steve took the card and the list and said, "All right. See you soon."  
  
  
  
  
  
Forty-five minutes later found Steve back in Liv's room as she hung up the phone. Mark had agreed to help Casey and Irene choose the menu for the reception, and at Jud and Steve's suggestion, he decided to have them cater the rehearsal dinner, too. After selecting the menus, Jud was going to take Mark around to the Grange, the VFW, and a couple other organizations to find a place to hold the rehearsal dinner.  
  
"Man, your aunt works fast, babe." Liv said as she turned to smile at him. "I had just told my friend Jeffrey the news when call waiting beeped. He came back on the line telling me, 'Olivia, some pushy broad named Dora Sloan wants to book the munchkin and me on a flight Pittsburgh for a wedding. Tell me this is a bad joke.'"  
  
Steve laughed. "'Pushy broad,' huh? That's Aunt Dora all right. What did you tell him?"  
  
"That I hadn't yet met my fiancé's aunt but that was her name, she was a travel agent, and he should accept the plane tickets."  
  
Smiling, Steve said, "You didn't need to do that. She wouldn't have let him say no."  
  
Silence settled between them. It quickly grew heavy and uncomfortable. They both tried to break it at once.  
  
"Liv, I…"  
  
"Look, Steve…"  
  
They chuckled uneasily and lapsed into silence again. After a bit, Olivia slid over on the bed and patted the mattress to indicate that Steve should sit beside her. He obeyed, and she gently pulled him down to rest his head on her chest. As her good hand made slow, gentle circles on his back, she said simply, "Talk to me."  
  
Steve gave a deep, shuddering sigh, and said, "I let you down, Liv. I failed to protect you, I shot you, and I killed your friend." His ragged breathing told her he was crying. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I can call everyone and cancel right now if you want. I'm so sorry, Liv."  
  
"You shot me?"  
  
"Uh-huh. As Ted staggered back from my first shot, you rose up in his arms, and I pulled the trigger. The slug went through you…and hit him in the chest. I heard you…cry out when you were hit. He fell back with you in his arms, but I couldn't see where you'd been wounded because the table was in the way. Everything was so quiet. For a moment, I thought…I thought I'd killed you, too. I thought my world was going to fall apart. Then you started screaming. Oh, God, I'm sorry, Liv."  
  
"Shhh." She hushed him softly. "You saved my life, Steve. You did what you had to. Don't ever be sorry for that. I'm not."  
  
She continued to rub his back and soothe him until he fell asleep in her arms.  
  
Hours later, when Mark and Jud returned to confirm that the menus had been selected and plans were in place for the rehearsal dinner and the reception, they found the love birds soundly sleeping in each other's arms.  
  
"He was supposed to go back to his room," Mark said with a rueful grin.  
  
"As long as they're both resting, does it matter?" Jud asked.  
  
"I guess not." 


	39. A Nightmare Put to Rest

Chapter 39. (February 8. Pennsylvania.)  
  
"You can help me, Steve, or you can get out of my way, but if you try to stop me I will never forgive you," Olivia whispered to him in the back pew of the church. The minister had invited any of Ted's friends to come forward and say a few words, but no one had stirred. Without a second thought, Liv was on her feet.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Steve continued to bar the way.  
  
"I *need* to do this, babe." She gave him that absolutely serious look she saved for times when she wanted her words to make a powerful impact, and it had the desired effect.  
  
Steve stepped aside, wishing his dad were there to talk some sense into her. Steve and Olivia had come to the funeral straight from the hospital in a rented car because Liv couldn't shift gears on the jeep with a broken hand and she didn't trust Steve's driving on icy roads. Mark had spent the night at Liv's house and was probably still sleeping off the effects of jet lag  
  
There were gasps and murmurs throughout the building as people recognized the diminutive redhead making her way to the front of the church. Clearly, people were surprised to see her there, and they were curious about what she had to say. Glancing around, Steve had the uneasy feeling that some members of the congregation were looking forward to a little drama. He thought it morbid that their eyes lit up at the prospect of what Liv might say about the death of a man who had once been her friend before trying several times to kill her.  
  
When Olivia took the podium, though, she made him proud.  
  
"Greetings. You all know who I am and how I know Teddy, and frankly, if you don't, you don't belong here. I'm sure, too, that some of you came here, not to pay your final respects, but expecting me to be here and hoping to see some kind of a scene. I am pleased to say you will be disappointed. I suppose such expectations, while completely inexcusable, are not entirely unforgivable. I am glad you are here, despite your motivations, and I hope you will support the Baer family during this difficult time."  
  
As Steve studied the congregation, he noticed several sheepish looks, and a few clearly repentant faces.  
  
"We are burying two men today. One is the violent, twisted man who attacked Keith Stephens and me twelve years ago, tracked me to New York, and tried to kill my fiancé and me in my own house just a few days ago. That man was evil. He was sick, and he was dangerous, and we are all safer now that he is gone. He took one of my oldest and dearest friends away from me, and I hated him for it. I will not mourn his passing, and I will never speak or think of him again."  
  
Again, there were mutters throughout the sanctuary. Folks were expecting things to get exciting. Liv waited for them to hush.  
  
"I am here today…to mourn the passing of Theodore Roosevelt, a.k.a. Teddy, Baer."  
  
Even at the back of the church, Steve had heard the tremor in her voice, and the whole congregation waited silently for her to steady herself before she continued.  
  
"I choose from this day forward, to remember Teddy as he was when we were young. I'll remember him holding Mush, the calico cat he hand raised after its mother abandoned it. I remember him holding this tiny, ugly little creature with a great, gaping, mewling mouth. Mush was the ugliest cat I have ever seen…"  
  
Some people in the church chuckled. Obviously, they had seen the cat. Steve saw Meg Baer dab at her eyes, but she was smiling through her tears.  
  
Olivia continued.  
  
"Teddy was trying to get him to take some milk from an eye-dropper, but the kitten wasn't doing well. Teddy looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, 'I don't know what to do, O. Dad says I should just let him die, but I can't. He's so helpless and ugly, somebody should care about him.'"  
  
Liv's voice cracked, and she had to pause before she continued.  
  
"I didn't know what to tell Teddy. The kitten would need constant attention if it was to survive, and between school, chores, and practice, I didn't know how Teddy could save him. Then Teddy looked at me and asked, 'Do you think it would make a difference if he had a name? Maybe if he had a name I could call him, he'd know I care if he lives or dies.'  
  
"Well, I shrugged and told Teddy it might be possible, and he asked me, 'What do you think I should call him?'  
  
"I told him I didn't have any idea what he should call the cat, but I thought it was adorable how that tiny little ball of fluff had turned one great, big, football-playing, farm boy into a big ball of mush. Teddy laughed, a little embarrassed, and decided to call the cat Mush.  
  
"I found out years later, when Mush was hit by a car and Keith and I helped bury him, that Teddy had snuck him into the house in a milk crate and kept him in his room. He talked his mom into looking after Mush while he was at school by promising to plant her an herb garden in the spring, and when he was home, he fed the kitten every two hours, even waking up in the middle of the night to look after him."  
  
There was a silence when Olivia paused, and as Steve looked around, he noticed nearly everyone was weeping.  
  
"That is the Teddy Baer I will choose to remember. I will remember the friend who taught me to drive when everyone else was either too afraid of my lack of coordination or too worried about looking stupid in that God- awful pink jeep to even try. I will remember dressing as Sprout and trick- or-treating with the Jolly Green Giant when I was fifteen and he was eighteen. I will remember sitting on his shoulders at Penn State football games so I could see over the crowd. I will remember a hero pulling me out of the river when I tried to drown myself, even though he'd never learned swim."  
  
Whispers swept through the crowded church as people recalled the various incidents Liv had mentioned and others she hadn't.  
  
"I will choose to remember Teddy Baer as a good and kind and decent and loving friend. I will mourn his passing because I miss him, I will celebrate his life because we are all better for having known him, and I will rejoice knowing that he is now safe in the arms of God. I hope all of you will do the same."  
  
As the whole congregation followed her every move, Liv stepped away from the podium and stood beside the casket for a moment. She put a hand to her lips and then pressed it to Ted's cheek. Going to the family, she hugged and kissed Ted's sister Meg, his brother Tom, and his parents, and then she made her way back to Steve. By the time she took her seat at his side, there was a line of old friends waiting to share pleasant memories  
  
Steve put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "I love you so much," he whispered, "And I am so very proud of you." He pulled her to him and kissed her temple. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder and wept softly as Keith began telling about the time he and Ted had talked the Cloud Nine girls into helping them take apart the high school groundskeeper's John Deere tractor only to reassemble it in the second floor teacher's lounge.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve and Liv didn't stay long at the wake. She introduced him to Becky and Jimmy Strawcutter, the farmer-tour guides from Gettysburgh, and he found them pleasant enough people although Becky was a bit too academic for his taste. He also met Chris Breth and her girlfriend, a Dr. Jennifer Cohen, who happened to be a former colleague of Olivia's.  
  
"You know," Chris confided to them both, "One thing I do envy you is that when you get married, it will be legal."  
  
Olivia patted her friend on the shoulder and said, "Maybe someday, Chris."  
  
Jennifer said, "Homosexuals will never get a legal marriage as long as there's a conservative Christian Republican in the White House."  
  
Liv rolled her eyes and said, "Leave it to Jen to discuss sex, religion, and politics in a single breath." Turning to Steve, she said, "You'll have to forgive Jen, darling. Her mom's a senator, her dad's a rabbi, and she's gay. She was never taught that normal people do not discuss such topics in polite company."  
  
Steve grinned and nodded.  
  
Jen continued her tirade. "And what's with this 'White House Salute to Gospel Music'? Whatever happened to the Separation of Church and State?"  
  
"Enough, Jen," Liv insisted. "I refuse to talk politics with you. I am delighted that you both are happy, and that's all anyone-gay or straight- has a right to expect from me."  
  
"Anyway," Chris obviously changed the subject, "What about you two, O. Is the wedding still on for Valentine's Day?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Olivia said to Steve's surprise. "Meg and the gang say it is, but I need to talk to Tommy and Mr. and Mrs. Baer. I want to make sure they're all right with it. I don't want to seem disrespectful or anything."  
  
"I can understand, that," Chris said. "It is just a little Shakespearian."  
  
Jennifer quoted, "The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables."  
  
Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, wondering if the conversation was really as weird as it seemed or if he was just suffering some strange after- effect of his concussion.  
  
Olivia looked at Jen and said, "Hamlet, right?"  
  
Jennifer nodded, "To Horatio, act one, scene two."  
  
"Yeah, well," Liv continued, "Chris, can I reach you at your parents' house? Once we decide for sure what's happening, I'll call you and let you know."  
  
"Actually, O, we're staying at the Super-8. Mom and Dad won't let us stay in the house together. I'm welcome, but not Jen."  
  
Liv gave her friend a hug. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."  
  
Chris sniffed, and said, "Even if I were straight, I wouldn't make love in their house. You'd think they'd realize I had more respect for them than that."  
  
Jen shrugged and said, "I told you before, Chrissy. They know that. They just don't like me because I'm Jewish."  
  
For a moment, no one knew what to say. Then Jen rolled her eyes and grinned, and they all laughed at the joke. Liv promised to call them at the motel, and she and Steve walked away.  
  
When Jennifer and Chris were out of earshot, Steve said, "Thank God all your friends aren't like that."  
  
Liv froze in her tracks, went rigid all over, folded her arms over her chest and said, "What are you saying, Steve?"  
  
Her tone was cold and deadly, and when he saw fire snapping in her green eyes, he knew he's said the wrong thing. He hadn't meant anything by it, but apparently, she didn't realize that.  
  
"Olivia, listen to me. I don't want a fight, so I'm going to make this as clear as I can."  
  
"Good. I'm all ears."  
  
"I don't care if they're gay. Jen's politics don't bother me at all, and I certainly don't care what religion either of them are."  
  
"Then what's your problem with my friends, Steve?"  
  
"That quote from Hamlet was just way over my head, Liv. If all your friends were like that, I'd never get the jokes."  
  
She studied him through narrowed eyes for a moment, and then smiled broadly and said, "You are a remarkable man, Steve Sloan. I'll never be able to love you enough." Giving him a kiss on the cheek and slipping her good arm around his waist, she said, "Let's go find Meg."  
  
  
  
  
  
They spotted Meg sitting with her parents, and Steve was horrified when Liv expected him to meet them.  
  
"Liv, I shot their son. I killed him. I shouldn't even be here, let alone meeting them. It can wait for another day."  
  
Rather than answer his concerns, she said, "Look, Meg's waving us over. It will be worse now if you don't come with me."  
  
Steve felt ill. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gulped. Then he followed Olivia to meet the family. He was trembling as he shook their hands.  
  
Mrs. Bear looked at him and said, "You killed Ted."  
  
"I…" Steve swallowed a lump in his throat. There was nothing to explain, no way to defend himself. He had to do it, but she didn't ask that. What she said was the undeniable truth. "Yes, ma'am, I did."  
  
"You were at the funeral?"  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"Then you know what everyone said about him. You know what our son was like."  
  
"Yes, ma'am. A lot of people are…were…very fond of him." This was pure hell. There was a knot in his stomach the size of a basketball and he desperately wanted to throw up. Only Olivia's arm around his waist kept him from running away.  
  
"Then you know that's not the man you killed."  
  
Steve's head was swimming when Mr. Baer indicated a recently vacated chair. "Sit down before you fall down, son, and don't look so scared. We won't bite."  
  
Steve took the seat gratefully and looked at the older man in confusion. He felt Liv squeeze his good shoulder in a comforting gesture.  
  
"Elaine is trying to tell you," Baer looked at his wife and kids who all nodded slightly, "and we've all agreed, that nobody blames you."  
  
"Mr. Baer…"  
  
"The name's Robert, but you can call me Bob. Now hush and let me finish. You don't look in any shape to argue."  
  
Steve closed his mouth and nodded.  
  
"Meghan told us about her conversation with you in the hospital the day it all happened. What she said goes for all of us. Ted was very sick, son, and, well…"  
  
Meg stepped away for a moment, and Tom took over the conversation now, because it was getting too much for his father.  
  
"None of us had seen Ted in over two years, Steve. Paranoia was a big part of his illness, and he thought we were all out to get him, so he refused our visits. Please don't think us terrible people, but when we heard what happened…" Tom paused to steady his voice, "…we were relieved that it was finally over, and thankful that the two of you would be all right."  
  
Steve wrinkled his brow in confusion and asked, "So, you're saying you all forgive me?"  
  
"No," Elaine said. "We're saying that, as far as we're concerned, you've done nothing that you need to be forgiven for."  
  
Steve put a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry," he said shaking his head. "I just don't know what to say. This is too much for me to process." He ran a hand over his face and said, "Thank you. You know, if there's anything I can do, just say the word."  
  
Meg had rejoined the group, and smiling, she said, "Now that you mention it…"  
  
"Meg…" her father warned, but she ignored him.  
  
"Name it," Steve said, desperately wanting to show this family how grateful he was that they didn't blame him for Ted's death.  
  
"A little bird just told me that O is still hemming and hawing about the wedding. We've all been through a lot lately. For us," Meg indicated her family and Olivia. "It's like we've spent the last twelve years in mourning. Teddy…the real Teddy…would say it's about time to stop. What we all need is a good party. Convince her to marry you as planned."  
  
Steve laughed with relief and looked up at his bride-to-be. "What do you say, Liv?"  
  
She looked from Tom to Elaine to Bob to Meg and back to Steve with a smile, and said, "Be mine, Valentine?" 


	40. Meet and Greet

Disclaimer appears at the end. I don't want to spoil the surprise. Of course, if you caught the hint earlier, it's not much of a surprise, is it?  
  
  
  
Chapter 40. (February 11. William Penn Hotel. Pittsburgh, PA.)  
  
"I know it's not exactly close to the airport," Dora Sloan nattered on, "but it's a fine old hotel. Wouldn't you agree?"  
  
Olivia nodded and smiled and said sincerely, "Oh, yes, ma'am. It's just beautiful."  
  
"Please, dear, Aunt Dora."  
  
"Ok…Aunt Dora."  
  
"It was no trouble arranging transportation from the airport, and when Steve said you wanted first class for everyone, I knew this was the way to go. I'm just so glad you like it."  
  
"Oh, I do, I really do."  
  
Steve was busy catching up with his old friend Jack Stewart. Before that, he'd been telling a rapt Jesse, CJ, and Dion all about his first encounter with a bear in the woods. Mark, too, had enjoyed visiting with Jack, as well as Norman Briggs, Dolores Hall, his brother Stacey, and his daughter Carol. At first, Olivia was furious with both Mark and Steve for abandoning her to deal with Aunt Dora alone, but then she realized how difficult it must have been for them among all of her friends. Still, when two gentlemen and a little girl entered the small banquet room Dora had booked, Liv was quick to excuse herself.  
  
Steve's back was to the door, but even if he had seen the men enter, he would not have understood why their sudden appearance would cause Jack to stop in midsentence and Jesse to freeze with a forkful of cheesecake halfway to his mouth. As he looked around the table, he saw Norman Briggs go pale. Amanda's eyes opened wide, and his dad's head snapped around almost fast enough to cause whiplash. Obviously, these guys were well known in the medical community, but who the hell were they? Full of curiosity, he joined Liv as she went to greet her friends.  
  
Without a word, she went to them and gave each of them a hug. First, she wrapped her arms around the man with the salt-and-pepper hair and very dark eyebrows. The guy had a kind face and a calm manner, and Steve could see Olivia relax the moment he put his arms around her. Of course, that could just be the result of having escaped Aunt Dora.  
  
"It's good to see you. How have you been?"  
  
"Apparently a lot better than you," the stranger said as he held the arm with the cast.  
  
"It's nothing, really." She rolled here eyes and turned to the other man. Tall, with dark hair and puppy-dog eyes, he was a bundle of nervous energy, constantly fidgeting. Steve noticed right away the twitchy fellow didn't like to hold eye contact for long. The guy made him nervous.  
  
As she stepped back from the hug, Liv told him, "You know I love you, and I know it's all in fun, but if you ever grab my butt again I will break you hand."  
  
He held her at arms length and said, "Liv, you look like hell. God, it's good to see you. Now why don't you introduce us to some of these people? All this silent admiration from afar makes me feel like a sideshow."  
  
With an exasperated sigh, Liv said, "You *are* a sideshow and you bring it on yourself by acting like a jackass. If you think I look bad now, you should have seen me three days ago."  
  
The borderline profanity from Liv caused Steve to raise an eyebrow. She caught the gesture and shrugged. Steve thought this guy was an arrogant bastard already, but his friend was too reserved to hazard a guess at his character. Still, Steve could not deny the murmurs he heard behind him. Liv's friends had clearly made an impression on the other doctors in the room.  
  
"Before we make the rounds," Liv suggested to Twitchy, "I think you should introduce me to someone."  
  
With a glance, Olivia indicated the little girl. Twitchy knelt beside the child and said, "Alicia, this lady is a friend of Daddy's. You remember me telling you about Dr. Regis, don't you?"  
  
The child nodded, wide-eyed. Then she reached out to shake Liv's hand and said, "It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Regis. Daddy says you're the best woman surgeon he's ever met."  
  
"Alicia, did your daddy tell you to say that just to see how I would react?"  
  
The child gave an impish smile, stuck her tongue out at her dad, and said, "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Do you know he and I used to argue about whether I was a surgeon or a woman surgeon all the time?"  
  
"Uh-huh. I agree with you. I'd much rather be 'one of the best' than the 'best *woman*' anything any day. I hope hurting your arm doesn't affect your skill."  
  
"I think my arm will be just fine. Thank you for the compliment and for your concern." Looking at Twitchy, Liv said, "Bright child, and someone is teaching her some sense." Turning to the one with the eyebrows, she said, "Must be you."  
  
Both men laughed, and Twitchy said, "Believe it or not, having a daughter has shown me the error of my ways."  
  
Liv dropped her jaw in mock surprise and asked Eyebrows, "Did I just hear him admit he was wrong?"  
  
"I didn't say that!" Twitchy insisted.  
  
Looking at him, Eyebrows deadpanned, "I think you did."  
  
Alicia looked up and said brightly, "You did, Daddy."  
  
Liv looked back to the child and said, "Well, it certainly is nice to meet you, Alicia. I'm glad to see you can keep your dad in line. I remember you when you were a tiny baby. You knew how to handle him before you could even talk."  
  
"You there when Daddy Alan adopted me, weren't you?"  
  
Liv looked to Twitchy and he told her, "She knows all about the Eel and how she got stuck with a wacko like me. I figured it was better to tell her myself than to let it slip from a thoughtless friend or, even worse, a stranger."  
  
Liv nodded. "Good thinking." To Alicia, she said, "Yes, honey, I was there. I even got to baby sit you when he was in the hospital before he died. You were a beautiful baby, but you're an even prettier little girl."  
  
Alicia smiled and said, "Thank you."  
  
Liv called CJ and Dion over and asked them to entertain Alicia. They were delighted to oblige, having long ago gotten bored with one another's company.  
  
Finally, Liv turned to Steve and put her good arm around his waist in what Steve thought was a delightfully proprietary gesture. Indicating first Twitchy and then Eyebrows, she said, "Jeffrey Geiger, Aaron Shutt, meet Steve Sloan…my fiancé."  
  
The men shook hands, and Aaron, indicating Steve's arm which was still in it's sling from the bullet wound said, "It appears that the two of you have had quite a row already. I hope this is no indication of what's to come."  
  
Steve laughed uneasily, hoping it was a joke, and said, "I hope not. It's a long story best forgotten, and the row wasn't between Liv and me."  
  
Aaron smiled warmly then and said, "That's good to know."  
  
Jeffrey took his hand and said in an almost friendly tone, "You're one lucky son of a…" Olivia cleared her throat and he quickly amended, "…gun, Steve. Remember, if you hurt her, I'll kill you."  
  
"Jeffrey," Liv said in a warning tone.  
  
Steve rolled his eyes and said with an impatient grin, "I've been told as much several times already, Jeffrey. I won't hurt her."  
  
Jeffrey looked at Aaron and said, "He doesn't think I'm serious. Tell him I'm serious, Aaron."  
  
"You're not serious, Jeffrey."  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"No, you're not. You're nuts, but you're not serious." Aaron gave Steve an embarrassed smile and said, "He's not serious."  
  
As they walked over to meet the rest of the group, Olivia muttered to Jeffrey through a toothy smile, "These people are about to become my family, Jeffrey. I expect you to behave yourself. If you embarrass me, I will never forgive you, got it?"  
  
"There you go spoiling all my fun again. I'll be good, Mom."  
  
Steve swore he heard Liv growl.  
  
Jeffrey and Aaron spoke for several minutes with Mark, Norman, and Olivia. During that time, Jesse, Amanda, and Jack came over to talk to Steve.  
  
Tugging on his wounded arm to get his attention, Jesse said, "Steve, why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"Jeeze, Jess, watch the arm, huh?"  
  
"Oh, sorry. But why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"Tell you what," Steve asked, genuinely confused.  
  
"You're clueless, aren't you," Jack asked.  
  
"I guess so, Jack. Why don't you fill me in?" Steve was already exasperated.  
  
"That's Jeffrey Geiger and Aaron Shutt."  
  
"I know," Steve told him. "I just met them."  
  
Amanda sighed. "Steve, do you remember how excited Jesse was to have Liv coming to GC because of her reputation?"  
  
Steve nodded.  
  
"Well, Shutt and Geiger are light years beyond anyone in their fields. If they're not as famous as Liv, they're more famous, if only because they've been around longer."  
  
"Oh. Well, excuse me for not knowing."  
  
His friends gave him an odd look, and Amanda said, "Snippy, aren't we?"  
  
"Sorry, I guess it's just pre-wedding jitters," it was a lame excuse, but Steve wasn't going to say that he didn't like his friends standing in awe of a couple strangers, one of them stranger than most, from Chicago.  
  
Jack shook his head in pity. "You don't get it. Having the two of them here…it's like having Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig come to dinner at your house on the same night."  
  
"Yeah, and when you count Liv…" Jesse couldn't finish the thought so Jack took over for him.  
  
"Dimaggio, another great from a younger generation."  
  
"Whatever. Look, guys, whatever they've accomplished, they're still just people. Shutt seems nice enough, if a little on the quiet side, and Geiger is just weird."  
  
"Did I hear someone taking my name in vain?" Jeffrey had gotten restless and wandered away from Aaron and Mark several minutes ago. He and Liv had chatted up Steve's aunt, uncle, and sister and met his partner Cheryl. After checking to see that Alicia was having fun with her new friends, he had gone in search of someone else to entertain him. Somehow, he got the idea that it would be fun to annoy Liv's straight-laced cop. He wondered how long it would take him to get the guy to try to hit him.  
  
Steve stifled a groan with a cough. This guy was getting annoying already, but he'd be damned if he'd let on. He was determined to make nice with all of Liv's friends. If he could get past Keith, the arrogant and annoying Dr. Jeffrey Geiger should be easy.  
  
Noticing that Steve's companions were already standing a bit in awe of him, Jeffrey added, "Relax, guys, I don't bite…"  
  
Liv called, "That's a lie."  
  
"…any more." Looking to Liv, he said, "Will you let a guy finish a thought, woman?"  
  
"Let me introduce you," Steve offered. "Dr….I'm sorry, I forgot your name." He feigned complete shock at his sudden absentmindedness.  
  
As Geiger looked daggers at him, Steve heard a snort of laughter from Liv, and she called, "He'll give as good as he gets, Jeffrey. You've met your match."  
  
Steve snapped his fingers as if Liv had suddenly jogged his memory and said, "Of course! Jeffrey! Dr. Jeffrey Geiger, meet Drs. Amanda Bentley, Jesse Travis, and Jack Stewart."  
  
With dramatic flair, Jeffrey took Amanda's hand, and, ignoring the others, he kissed it and said, "If I could write the beauty of your eyes and in fresh numbers number all your graces, the age to come would say, 'This poet lies: such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'"  
  
Much to Steve's dismay, Amanda giggled and batted her eyes at the fool.  
  
"Dr. Geiger," she said breathlessly, "I've seen you present at conferences in the past, but I never would have guessed you would be so elegant or so charming in person."  
  
"Jeffrey, please, dear lady. Only your radiant beauty could make me recite Shakespeare."  
  
Steve couldn't keep from rolling his eyes, and he caught a, 'Don't be so childish,' look from Amanda when she spotted him. Disgusted, he walked away to join Liv and his dad in conversation with Dr. Shutt.  
  
When she spotted the satisfied smirk on Jeffrey's face, Amanda immediately felt sorry for the look she had given Steve. It would be awkward to call him back now, so she did the next best thing. She made up her mind to apologize later and forced the egomaniac to acknowledge Jack and Jesse.  
  
"A few minutes ago, Jack, Jesse, and I were discussing your work, and I don't think any of us have seen anything new from you in the past several years. I know Jesse in particular was wondering what progress you have made in your research on gene therapy in generating a new coronary blood supply network after bypass surgery."  
  
"Absolutely none in the past six years," Jeffrey shook his head and smiled, knowing that he'd been too smug. If he'd just acted confused when Steve had walked off, he'd still be flirting with the attractive young woman instead of talking shop with her and her friends. Oh, well.  
  
The three younger doctors exchanged confused glances until finally Jesse said, "Surely you have made some advances."  
  
"Actually, no, I haven't," Jeffrey insisted. "When I adopted Alicia six years ago, I retired to be a full-time dad."  
  
"You quit? Just like that?" Jack was astounded.  
  
"Do you have kids, what's your name? Jack?"  
  
"Yes, Jack. No kids."  
  
"Then you couldn't possibly understand."  
  
"Well, Amanda has kids," Jesse said, "and she works at Community General and as an ME for LA County."  
  
Jeffrey eyed the shorter man with a look that made him cower. He couldn't stand it when people acted like he was somehow slacking because he'd decided to devote himself entirely to raising his child.  
  
"Good for her. As for me, I can only excel at one thing at a time. If I were to try to be a parent and a doctor, I would feel I was always neglecting either Alicia or my patients. My daughter is far more important to me than medicine. I'm sorry if you're disappointed."  
  
"Look, Dr. Geiger, I'm sorry if I offended you," Jesse said, backing away as he tried to smooth things over. "I'm just surprised such a gifted surgeon could walk away from it so easily. I admire you for being able to follow your heart. It must be wonderful to be with your daughter every…"  
  
"Wait, kid," Jeffrey interrupted. He sighed. In ten minutes, he'd already managed to alienate half of Liv's friends. He *was* a sideshow, *and* a jackass. "I should be apologizing to you. All of you," he included Jack and Amanda in his glance and gestured toward Steve. "It hasn't been easy to walk away. I have this competitive streak. I always have to be the smartest or the best or the wittiest. More often than not, I just piss people off." He shrugged. "Sorry about that."  
  
Olivia joined the group and said, "It is the end of the world as we know it. First, he admits he was wrong, and now, he's apologizing. Will wonders never cease?"  
  
Jeffrey looked at her and said, "Liv, you have no idea how much I've changed since you left Chicago Hope. Alicia has been good for me, really good."  
  
"I can see that, Jeffrey, and I think it's wonderful."  
  
Geiger grinned, "Believe it or not, I have even admitted to Kate that I needed her advice a time or two."  
  
"Speaking of Kate, where are she and Phillip?"  
  
"They're taking a later flight. Kate had a patient on the heart recipient waiting list and a good one came in at the last moment, and Phillip had a late meeting. They're due in here around nine tonight, local time."  
  
"K-K-Kate as in Katherine Austin and Ph-Ph-Phillip Watters?" Jesse stammered, unable to believe that he was going to meet two more of his heroes in one evening.  
  
Jeffrey looked at him and said, "Kid, you need to get a grip. You're a doctor, I'm a doctor, Kate, Phillip, Aaron, we're all just doctors, though when I was practicing, I was certainly the best and most charismatic." He winked and grinned, making a joke of his arrogant words. "Some of us may have had more experience, and a few lucky breaks here and there, but that's it."  
  
"Yeah, but you're accomplishments…"  
  
"Twenty years from now, they'll be a fart in the wind, Jesse." Suddenly, Jeffrey's eyes unfocused and his brain was off on another track all together. "Jesse…Jesse…Jesse Travis from Community General in LA?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"You're mom's that beautiful blonde Dr. Travis from that little private practice in Minnesota, right?"  
  
"Yeah…" Jesse was confused now.  
  
"Hey, Aaron," yelled Jeffrey, "You've gotta meet this kid, get over here."  
  
As Aaron joined the group, Jesse asked, "How do you know my mom?"  
  
Ignoring his question, Jeffrey told Aaron, "Aaron, this is Jesse Travis."  
  
Aaron frowned in thought until recognition lit his eyes. "You did the amputation in the elevator when your hospital was bombed." Shaking his hand, he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I feel like I know you already. I can't talk to you mother without hearing what you've been doing."  
  
"How do you know my mom?" Jesse repeated.  
  
In answer, Aaron explained, "Whenever we publish a new procedure at Chicago Hope, her practice sends people to learn it for their patients. Your mom is such a nice lady."  
  
Jesse gave a pained smile. "Yeah, that's my mom," he said quietly, "She's real good at nice."  
  
"I just love her," Aaron rambled on. "Whenever she comes to the hospital, I always try to make time at least to have lunch with her. She's always full of stories about you."  
  
"Really?" Jesse found it hard to believe his mom would talk that much about him to her friends.  
  
"Yeah, kid. Whatever you're doing, keep it up," Jeffrey said. "You're really going places, and your mom is proud of you."  
  
Beaming, blushing, and trying to be modest all at once, Jesse could only say, "Aw, shucks," and made everybody laugh.  
  
Liv muttered to Jeffrey under her breath, "You better be telling the truth."  
  
"Every word of it," he replied quietly, still smiling at the suddenly bashful young man.  
  
As Jack, Jesse, and Amanda told the doctors from Chicago about their exploits both in the hospital and in helping Steve solve his cases, Steve quietly pulled Liv aside and asked, "Do you think we can leave these people to entertain each other for a while? I miss having you to myself. We could say we're tired from the drive or something and want to go lie down a little."  
  
"Mmmm," Liv gave it some thought. "I'm half afraid to leave Jeffrey without a keeper."  
  
"I know what you mean, Liv. At first I thought he was a jerk, and he really annoyed me, but I think your friend Aaron can manage him. Besides, after what he did for Jesse, I have to say, he can't be all bad."  
  
Liv laughed softly, "Jeffrey's like that. One minute he's a jackass, and the next moment, he's a doll."  
  
"Takes some getting used to, I'll bet."  
  
"Oh, yes, and in answer to your other question, ohhh, yesss."  
  
She giggled, he grinned, and they made their excuses and went to their room.  
  
  
  
  
  
Liv rolled over and looked at the clock.  
  
"Steve, it's eight fifteen."  
  
"And?" Steve was still groggy.  
  
"Kate and Phillip will be here in an hour."  
  
"You sure?" He really didn't want to get out of bed, not that he particularly wanted to sleep any more.  
  
"If their flight's on time."  
  
"Why don't you call and find out?" Anything to postpone the inevitable.  
  
He heard a murmured conversation. Then Liv hung up and dialed again. When she rolled over, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "Their flight's ten minutes behind schedule. The desk will call us when they check in."  
  
Steve snuggled closer and started sucking her earlobe. "Good."  
  
She giggled.  
  
  
  
  
  
The phone rang at nine twenty-five, waking them both from a light doze.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Dr. Regis, you asked to be notified when your friends checked in."  
  
"Oh, yes. They're here?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"What room?"  
  
"Eight-oh-seven and eight-oh-nine, ma'am."  
  
"Ok. Thank you. Could you ask if they want room service? Anything they want, charge it to my room, please, and also tell them I will come see them in just a few minutes."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Steve groaned as Liv nudged him out of the bed.  
  
"Come on, babe. It would be rude not to meet them tonight after they've come all this way."  
  
"Tell them I've been shot and am still recovering, Liv. They'll understand."  
  
"Steven Michael Sloan…"  
  
He groaned again. His dad must have taught her that.  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming."  
  
With a chuckle, she said, "There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now I want you to meet Kate and Phillip."  
  
When the joke finally sunk in, Steve burst into laughter. "You are incorrigible."  
  
  
  
  
  
"…so he bit the guy's finger."  
  
They all howled with laughter.  
  
"You're telling me Geiger actually *bit* another surgeon?" Steve asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yes," Phillip insisted, "and when they came to my office, Jeffrey kept saying, 'I warned him, Phillip, I warned him.'"  
  
"And I thought Jen and Chris were unusual." Still laughing, Steve turned to Liv and asked, "So that's what he meant when he said he doesn't bite anymore?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
It was after eleven, and they were still talking. Steve had hit it off much better with Phillip and Kate than he had with Jeffrey and Aaron, and he was enjoying hearing stories about Olivia and her friends from Chicago.  
  
"Ok," Steve said, "I've got a question."  
  
"What's that," Liv asked.  
  
"How did you and Geiger ever get to be friends?"  
  
Before Liv could answer, Kate held up a finger and said, "Hold that thought."  
  
She went to the mini-bar and fixed drinks for everyone. Putting Steve's scotch and soda in his hand, she said, "You're going to need it."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, he turned to Liv.  
  
She shrugged. "It's not that complicated really. We just have a lot in common."  
  
"Olivia," Phillip said in a tone that suggested she'd better amend her story quickly.  
  
Smiling blandly, she turned to him, "Can you deny it's true?"  
  
After a moment's thought, he said, "No, but…"  
  
"But if you don't tell the whole story, we will," Kate interrupted.  
  
Liv hid her face in her hands and moaned, "You just live to embarrass me, don't you?"  
  
"Always," Kate said.  
  
Taking a sip of the vodka martini Kate had mixed for her, Liv settled back in her chair and began.  
  
"It's like this, Steve. When I first moved to Chicago, I didn't know a soul there. The only friends I had were the ones I made at work. Phillip and Aaron took me in right away. Initially, I thought it was because I'd made no secret of my previous bouts with depression and they wanted to keep an eye on me, but eventually, I realized that their friendliness was sincere. They really liked me. They were absolute dolls."  
  
"Dolls?" The older doctor echoed.  
  
"Dolls," Liv repeated, leaning over to give Phillip a kiss on the cheek. First, he looked surprised; then he smiled happily.  
  
"At first, Kate was a little threatened to have another woman surgeon on staff, but she loosened up soon enough."  
  
"Threatened? I was not threatened," the tall strawberry blonde insisted.  
  
"Kate, the first thing you said when Phillip mentioned finding me an office was, 'I'm not sharing mine.'"  
  
Steve laughed as Kate blushed and muttered, "Just because I'm jealous of my personal space doesn't mean I was threatened."  
  
Smiling, Liv said, "Ok, Kate have, it your way." Turning to Steve, she continued, "Anyway, Kate, Aaron, and Phillip were good to me from the start. They took me to some of the better restaurants, showed me around town, made me feel welcome; but Jeffrey hated me instantly."  
  
"I can't imagine anyone hating you, Liv."  
  
"She's not exaggerating," Phillip said. "Jeffrey hated her with a purple passion."  
  
Steve's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Kate who confirmed what he'd been told with a nod.  
  
"Why didn't he like you, Liv?"  
  
Shaking her head, she told him, "For the longest time, I didn't know. I couldn't figure it out. He was so mean to me. I can't count the number of times he made me cry, but I never gave him the satisfaction of seeing it. He was…he was…"  
  
"He was a real bastard," Kate supplied.  
  
"Yeah," Liv said, "That's about right."  
  
"What did he do to you?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"A million and one little things, really. He'd turn his back on me when I was talking or leave the table as soon as I sat down at lunch, but the thing that hurt the most, the *one* thing that made me cry was the way he'd question, correct, or one-up *everything* I said. For weeks, he did everything he could to disparage and belittle me.  
  
"I was feeling lonely and a bit overwhelmed from being in yet another new city, and I was still reeling from my latest run-in with Ted. Jeffrey almost had me ready to leave, but I couldn't decide where I wanted to go."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"Nothing, until the night I figured out why he was doing it."  
  
"What happened then?"  
  
"Well, Phillip invited me to stop by his office for drinks. He has this nice little patio setup on the roof of the building. Incredible view, just beautiful, and he explained that it was a regular thing for him to get together with some of his friends out there at the end of a long week and he thought I might like to join them. When I got there, he, Aaron, Kate, and Jeffrey were drinking scotch and smoking cigars. I saw Jeffrey roll his eyes before he turned away from me."  
  
Steve looked at Kate and said, "Cigars?"  
  
"Only on rare occasions," she told him, "Nothing is bad in moderation."  
  
"I could argue with that," Steve said, "but not right now."  
  
"Phillip fixed me a drink, and I declined the cigar," Liv went on, "They were having some discussion, I really don't remember what about. I offered my opinion, and Jeffrey attacked.  
  
"'Look, kid, you've been a doctor all of what? Two minutes? You haven't been around long enough to have an opinion that matters.' He waved me away saying, 'Run along, and play with your shiny new instruments and come back when you know what you're talking about.'"  
  
"That's pretty harsh," Steve said. Looking at Kate, he said, "He *was* a complete bastard."  
  
She nodded, grinned evilly, and said, "He got over it real fast."  
  
Liv pressed her palms together and continued her story.  
  
"If Aaron hadn't laughed, I never would have figured it out, but when I heard the laughter, I knew that's exactly what Jeffrey wanted. He *wanted* his friends to laugh at me. He wanted me to be the kid that everybody picked on."  
  
"Oh, come on, Liv. That's quite a stretch," Steve said. "He can't have been that childish."  
  
"Steve, he bit another surgeon. How mature is that?"  
  
Steve frowned and said, "I see your point. So, what happened next?"  
  
"I flipped *out* on him. I have *never* lost my temper like I did that night. I'm lucky I wasn't arrested for what I did."  
  
"I find that hard to believe," Steve said.  
  
"Son," Phillip said, "After the stunt she pulled, she's lucky she and Jeffrey are still alive."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Live nodded, and continued her tale.  
  
"I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his feet and screamed in his face, 'I have had *enough*! I am tired of being disparaged and dismissed by you. I am a highly trained, gifted surgeon, just like you. I am well educated and talented, just like you. I have *earned* respect and acknowledgement, just like you. The only reason you hate me, Jeffrey is because I am *just like you*.'  
  
"He told me I was out of my mind, and I said, 'Genius and insanity walk a fine line together. You see in me the same brilliance and lunacy you have in yourself, and it frightens you.'  
  
"'I'm not afraid of you,' he tried to laugh it off.  
  
"'You are,' I insisted. 'You're afraid your friends can only handle one wacko at a time, and you're terrified they'll ditch you for me. You're terrified of losing them because they're the *only* friends you have in this *world*, and you hate me because when you look at me you see all of the reasons they should dump you.'"  
  
"Jeeze, Liv, you were putting all your cards on the table, weren't you?"  
  
"Oh, Steve, I wasn't playing poker. It was Russian roulette."  
  
He started to ask a question, but Kate interrupted, "Let her finish."  
  
Liv picked up where she left off.  
  
"I dragged him over to the edge of the roof and stood up on the ledge at the top. Then I hauled him up there with me and yelled, 'Are you afraid of me now?' I've never seen a man so frightened in all my life. Pointing to Phillip, Aaron, and Kate, I told him, 'Those three people are the *only* friends I have right now, and I need them every bit as badly as you do. I am *not* going to give them up just because you are a jealous! Selfish! Insecure! Neurotic! Nutcase!'  
  
"Looking at the street below, I said, 'The way I see it, we have two choices.'  
  
"'And they are?' he asked.  
  
"'You can learn to share, or one of us can jump, because neither of us will survive for long without them. What'll it be?'"  
  
"Liv," Steve was appalled, "You didn't."  
  
She nodded emphatically and said, "He actually had to think about it a minute. Then he said, 'I-I'll try to share, but if one of us has to commit suicide, I think it should be you. You've had more practice.'"  
  
Steve gaped in horror. He couldn't imagine anyone voicing such a thought.  
  
"He sounded so matter of fact," Olivia said. "Then he gave me this nervous little lopsided grin, and I just had to laugh. I let him down, and stood there for a minute. I'm sure he thought I was truly contemplating it, but I was really just admiring the view. When I stepped down, I told him, 'Personally, I think you should be the one to go. I have more productive years ahead of me. Besides, you're a big jerk.'"  
  
Steve, Kate, and Phillip had to chuckle at that.  
  
"He laughed then, and said, 'Frankly, I think it would be a damned shame to lose either of us. I guess if it comes to that we'll have to draw straws,' and he put an arm around my shoulders. We've been good friends ever since."  
  
"God, Liv," Steve sounded truly shocked, "I can't believe you did that. You're right, you could have been arrested."  
  
Phillip laughed, "She almost was. I had called security, and as she and Jeffrey came back to join us, two big, burly guys busted in on our little cocktail hour. As I opened my mouth to tell them to take her away, Jeffrey spoke up. 'It was just a little misunderstanding, guys. No big deal.' He looked at me and said, 'I thought by now you would have gotten used to these things, Phillip.'  
  
"I sent the guards away and never had another problem between the two of them."  
  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
The characters of Aaron Shutt, Jeffrey Geiger, Philip Watters, and Kate Austin from Chicago Hope are not mine. They belong to David E. Kelley and are used with greatest respect for the way in which he and the actors who portrayed them imbued them with humanity and reality. Alicia is also a character from Chicago Hope, but she was an infant when I last saw the series. I have tried to write her as a precocious young lady, remarkable even among the extraordinary adults with whom she appears.  
  
The Shakespeare quote is from Sonnet 17. 


	41. Rehearsal Dinner

(Chapter 41. February 13. Rehearsal dinner. The Grange social hall.)  
  
Steve sat back from the table and sighed contentedly. He was stuffed and exhausted, but having too much fun to want to go home. Surprisingly, he didn't feel nervous at all.  
  
The morning had been spent in last minute fittings and alterations for the wedding party. Liv seemed delighted with her dress, and she was thrilled when Steve gave her a pair earrings he'd had made before they left Los Angeles. They matched her watch, necklace, and ring, and he had told her they were the "something new" for her to wear in the wedding for luck.  
  
After lunch, they had gone to the church for the wedding rehearsal. They had decided to go with a very traditional variation of a Medieval Christian ceremony from the Book of Common Prayer of Queen Elizabeth I of England. He liked Pastor Brennan, and, though Liv had rejected the suggestion, both she and Steve had appreciated his sensitivity when he offered the possibility of dropping out the "speak now or forever hold your peace" portion of the service.  
  
"I don't know, Steve," she had said. "I think it's an important part of the tradition. Nothing could ever change how I feel about you, and I know there's no legal reason we can't get married. After all this time, if someone has something to say about it, I think they should have the chance to be heard. I know it could make for a really difficult time, but believe me when I tell you, the only person who could make me change my mind is you."  
  
Steve thought about it a moment. "The only person I'd be concerned about is Keith, Liv, but I think he and I achieved a meeting of the minds while you were in the hospital. If you want to keep it, keep it. It doesn't bother me."  
  
Now he and Liv were having a blast at the rehearsal dinner. Their friends had foregone the traditional bridal shower and bachelor party due to time constraints, and his father had gladly agreed to take up the slack by combining them into the rehearsal dinner. Steve wondered if he would have been so agreeable had he known what some of the gifts were.  
  
When Steve unwrapped the see-through blue pajamas, Mark blushed even redder than he did. Steve was genuinely grateful to Liv for not letting his dad see the edible underwear she had received. Suspiciously enough, both packages had come with unsigned cards, but the handwriting was strangely familiar to Steve. For some reason, Jack and Jesse were the only people who wouldn't meet his eye when looked around for someone to 'thank' for the racy gifts.  
  
He smiled to think of the two of them teaming up for something devious, maybe deviant, like that. He was glad Jack and Jesse had hit it off so well. It was nice to know his two best friends got along. Jack had come without a date, which was fine, because he and Sue Redmond were getting along famously, and Steve was quite satisfied to know that all of Liv's friends liked his closest friends.  
  
Best of all, he and Keith had made peace. Life was good.  
  
"Steve…Hello, Steve…You in there?"  
  
"Huh? What?"  
  
Liv laughed at him, "You were lost for a minute there. Jesse's about to make a toast."  
  
Steve spotted mischief in Jesse's eye and groaned inwardly. This was going to get ugly.  
  
"I, uh, guess as best man, it's my job to start off the toasts. I've already prepared the one I'm going to give tomorrow, but this one is off the cuff. So please bear with me."  
  
He looked around to see that he had everybody's attention, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he might escape embarrassment. He was wrong.  
  
"I don't know how many of you have heard about this, but if you have, I apologize for boring you with old news. I just wanted to tell you all a little bit about how Liv and Steve first met. She very nearly blew him away from the start, which is unusual for Steve. Most women get to know him before they start shooting."  
  
There was a laughing groan at the bad joke, but most people there didn't know how close to the truth it was. To Liv and Steve's great dismay, Jesse told them.  
  
"Oh, no, I'm serious. Less then twelve hours after they met, she had a gun to his head."  
  
From there, Jesse proceeded to tell them the whole story of that first day and how Steve had helped Liv find her house and move in. He ended with more twisted humor, "Most people would say that everything that you've been through together speaks volumes about how well you will get on in married life, and they may be right, but frankly, Liv, I knew you were the one the moment I heard he'd forgiven you for puking in his truck. I have never known Steve to love anything so much as that truck…until now."  
  
Raising his glass he finished with, "Peace, joy, and long life, Steve and Olivia. May all your troubles be little ones."  
  
Jack stood next, and, thankfully, he was brief.  
  
"Steve, I've known you for years, but when I first saw you at the airport, you were a different man. You were happier than I have ever seen you. Olivia, thank you for doing that for him. Cheers."  
  
The noises of appreciation fell abruptly silent when Keith stood up, unsteady on his crutches and prosthetic legs, but determined to be heard. He looked around and smiled innocently.  
  
"You know, I'm pretty good at reading faces, and I have to tell you, half of you are thinking 'Ohhhhh, Lord, what's he gonna do now,' and the other half don't know what to think. Well you can all relax, I'm not going to screw this up for anyone."  
  
He paused a moment, and was a bit disappointed when the tension did not lift. Shrugging his shoulders and turning first to look at Steve, he offered his toast.  
  
"Steve, I have to be honest. I envy you many things. You're even taller than I was before I lost my legs, you look like a movie star, you still have all your hair," he ran a hand over his balding head and waited for the chuckles to quiet, "and it never snows in Southern California. But one thing I do not envy you is the job you have undertaken. You really have no idea what's in store for you."  
  
There were general sounds of confusion at his statement. Steve more than anyone clearly wondered what he was leading up to. Keith patiently waited for silence.  
  
"Olivia is a dreamer *and* a doer. If she can imagine something, she will move heaven and earth to make it happen. Whatever comes into her head will in some shape or form come out in the world around her. Sometimes, her dreams are way out there, and she seems to be setting herself up to fail. Your mission, Steve, since you have so foolishly chosen to accept it, is to spend the rest of your life trying to keep this wild child, this fickle female, our…outrageous, often in orbit O, firmly grounded in reality. You *will* fail…frequently."  
  
There was a smattering of knowing laughter from the crowd. Keith saw Steve grin, obviously understanding now. When laughter died down, he continued.  
  
"If I may presume to give you a little advice, it is this: On those all- too-common days when you fail to make her keep both feet on the ground, when you can't get her head out of the clouds, instead of getting frustrated, just hold on tight, and let her teach you how to fly."  
  
There was a chorus of "Awwww's," and when they stopped, Keith turned to Olivia.  
  
"O, OOOOlivia," he stretched her name out like a sigh. "Olivia Margaret Regis, it is no secret that your beach bum and I will never be the best of friends, so I won't even pretend it's possible."  
  
The renewed tension in the air was palpable.  
  
"Ironically, you are the only reason I know him, the only reason I hated him at first sight, and the only reason I have learned to get along with him. We may never be buddies, O, but I do know a good man when I see one, and he is one of the best I've met. He is what I should have been, and I am glad you have him."  
  
Keith paused a moment and collected his thoughts.  
  
"This is my advice to you. Depend on him, and he will never let you down. Lean on him, and he will always support you. Put yourself under his protection, and he will forever keep you safe. Trust him, and he will be faithful in all things. Love him, Olivia, love him…"  
  
Keith swallowed a lump in his throat. He needed to finish this.  
  
"Love him, and he will love you like the morning loves the sun."  
  
Raising his glass higher, he saluted them.  
  
"God bless you both. May you have many years together and much happiness to lighten the weight of those years. Salud."  
  
There was a smattering of applause and another chorus of "Awwww's." Several people took out tissues to dab their eyes. Keith downed his champagne, dropped heavily into his wheelchair, and as soon as the attention was off him; he rolled out of the social hall, intent on being alone.  
  
Olivia would not allow it.  
  
  
  
  
  
As she listened to Keith's toast, Olivia's throat tightened until she could barely swallow her champagne. She only gave half an ear to the other toasts that were being made as she watched Keith at his table. For several moments, he sat there struggling to maintain control, then when all attention was directed elsewhere, he wheeled his chair out of the Grange Hall. A few minutes later, when the toasting was over, Olivia excused herself to the powder room, and slipped out to the porch on her way back.  
  
She found Keith sitting in the dark at the end of the porch.  
  
"Kinda cold out here, isn't it?"  
  
"Nah, but you've been away so long you've lost your tolerance for it."  
  
"I suppose that could be."  
  
A pause.  
  
"I never knew you were so eloquent."  
  
"Well, we all have our hidden talents."  
  
"You all right, Keith?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be all right?" He tried to feign surprise, but the catch in his voice gave him away.  
  
"You know that I know that you don't really expect an answer to that, so why don't you just talk to me so we can both go back inside and warm up."  
  
"I waited twelve years, O, expecting you to come home, and when you did, you brought him. What do you want me to say?"  
  
"I don't know, Keith, but it's not my fault you let life go on without you. You chose to mire yourself in what happened and send me on my way. I'd have stayed, I *wanted* to stay, but you just made it hurt so much."  
  
He turned to her, and even in the dark, she could see the pain and shock on his face.  
  
"You wanted to stay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"With me?"  
  
"Yes." He heard tears in her voice.  
  
"Kenney and Meg and Mom all asked you to come home, O. Why didn't you?"  
  
"The day you sent me away, you said you'd come find me if you ever wanted to see me again. I always let you know where I was, Keith, but you never came for me. All you had to do was come for me." Now the tears were sliding down her cold-reddened cheeks.  
  
He covered his face and shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"Oh, God. Oh, God in Heaven. What have I done?"  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve had seen Olivia slip out the door on her way back from the powder room. He gave her plenty of time to talk to Keith, but when the party started winding down, he went looking for her. He didn't want the mass exodus to interrupt their discussion, so he thought he'd give them a little warning.  
  
He stepped on the porch to see Keith, head in hands, moaning, "What have I done?"  
  
Looking up at Liv, Keith said, "All I ever had to do was come for you?"  
  
She nodded sadly, and Steve could hear the sound of crying in her voice. "That's all I wanted, Keith. All I ever needed."  
  
The man's ragged breathing told the story of his pain as he asked, "When did things change, O?"  
  
Olivia thought for a minute and said, "New Year's Eve. Just before Thanksgiving, I promised Steve I'd stick around as long as he wanted me, but it was early days yet. If you'd have come for me then, I know he would have told me to go."  
  
"But…" Keith prompted her to continue.  
  
"But on New Year's Eve, he tried to propose, and I stopped him. I wanted to make sure he knew what a messed up woman he was dealing with. I wanted him to know how hard it could be to…be with me."  
  
"And…" Keith was dragging the whole story out of her, forcing himself to listen to it.  
  
Steve was tempted to put a stop to their conversation. Both of them were obviously in pain, and while he didn't care what Keith put himself through, he didn't want to see Liv suffer any more. Still, he let them continue, believing it was good for them to get everything out in the open.  
  
"And I promised him if he still wanted to ask after he'd heard my whole story that I would say yes."  
  
Keith sighed with regret. His tears were spent. Then he raised his head and asked with a challenge in his voice, "Do you love him, O?"  
  
"You said it yourself, Keith. He'll protect me, he'll be faithful, he'll love me."  
  
"But I asked, do you love him?"  
  
"Yes, Keith, I do."  
  
Steve smiled, knowing his place in Olivia's life was secure.  
  
"More than me?"  
  
"Oh, Keith…"  
  
Steve felt his guts tie in knots. He waited breathlessly for her to continue, but she didn't.  
  
"Well?" The challenge was there again, clear as ever.  
  
"Keith, do you really think that's a fair question?"  
  
Steve wasn't liking these developments at all. Liv was only evasive when something was painful for her to discuss.  
  
"Hell, yes. O, tomorrow you are going to promise to spend the *rest* of your *life* with him. He better be the one, or it won't work."  
  
"He treats me well, Keith, and I promised I'd marry him. We'll have a good life. I'll make sure it works."  
  
Steve thought he was going to be sick.  
  
"You haven't answered my question, O."  
  
Steve heard a gentle smile in her voice when she answered. "I love him as much as I possibly could love anyone who wasn't you, Keith. Finding him when I did was a blessing from God, and that should be more than enough for anyone. We will be very happy together."  
  
Steve heard Keith's voice dripping with gentle sarcasm, "And you promised, didn't you?"  
  
Liv nodded, "I promised."  
  
"Lucky bastard."  
  
Steve slipped back into the Grange Hall and closed the door quietly. Then he came banging out onto the porch again.  
  
"Liv! Hey, Liv!"  
  
She stepped out of the shadows alone. Here eyes, cheeks, and nose were red, but if he didn't know better, Steve would have thought it was the cold and the wind.  
  
"What's the matter, babe?"  
  
Oh, if only he could tell her.  
  
"The party's breaking up, and you should know your bridesmaids have decided that you're to spend the night at Jud and May's house. They said something about it being bad luck for the groom to see the bride on her wedding day before the actual wedding ceremony."  
  
She laughed, saying, "That's nonsense, Steve, and I am *not* being dragged out of my own bed the night before my wedding for some old superstition."  
  
"Well, now, you're doing the something old, something new thing."  
  
"Because I want to. I am spending the night in my house."  
  
He thought about talking her into going along with it, but decided not to. He needed tonight with her to think about what he was going to do tomorrow.  
  
"Well, if that's the way you feel, we had better escape now or they'll be hauling you away. You start the jeep and I'll get our coats, ok? I'm sure Dad and the gang will bring along the gifts later."  
  
"All right. I'll pull up to the porch for you." 


	42. Doubts

(Chapter 42. February 14. Liv's house, the church.)  
  
Steve rolled over and looked at the digital clock readout. Damn, it was 5:43 already. He'd spent all night with Liv in his arms, listening to her breathe. She had slept soundly while he wrestled with his dilemma. Liv always said exactly what she meant, but Steve had learned that it wasn't always easy to understand her. What had she meant when she said she loved him as much as she could anyone who wasn't Keith? Steve was tempted to write it off as her way of saying Keith would always be special to her, but she was truly in love with him, but the were several reasons he couldn't.  
  
First, when Keith asked if she loved Steve, why hadn't given him a direct answer? It seemed to Steve that she was trying to convince herself that she had sound reasons for marrying him. Keith shouldn't have had to ask her twice. Second, if she really loved him as much or more than she loved Keith, Steve thought she would have said so. It was a simple yes or no question. Why had she made the answer complicated? Steve knew she would never intentionally hurt Keith's feelings, but she wouldn't lie to him or give him false hope either. Finally, when Keith mentioned that she had made a promise, she did nothing to indicate that there were other, vastly more important reasons for her to marry Steve. In his opinion, a promise was a lame reason for anyone to get married, and Steve had been disappointed and hurt that Liv had let the conversation end sounding as though that was her main reason for marrying him.  
  
He felt if she really loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she should have said so emphatically. Yes, let Keith know she would always hold a special affection for him, but also let him know that Steve was the one she planned to be with forever.  
  
Steve glanced at the clock again. 5:47. Time seemed to be crawling and flying at the same time.  
  
In less than twelve hours, he and Liv would be pledging their lives to one another, "to love, comfort, honor, and keep each other, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others." God, he wanted to make that promise. He wanted her more than anyone or anything he'd ever known, but he needed to know she felt the same about him.  
  
He knew they could live well and happily together for many years. He knew they were good for each other. He knew their marriage would be a good and happy one and last for the rest of their lives. He knew she loved him, deeply, passionately, and with abandon, but…  
  
It was that damned but that had kept him up all night.  
  
…*did* she love him more than Keith?  
  
5:52. He had eleven hours and eight minutes to find his answers.  
  
Steve spent another interminably sleepless hour and twenty-three minutes in bed, holding Liv close, feeling the warmth of her body spooned against his, breathing in the scent of lavender, and listening to her breathe. When the alarm sounded at seven fifteen, he sighed. At least now, he would have some distraction and wouldn't have to spend every moment worrying about his problem. He hoped the solution would come to him in a distracted moment, and when it did, he hoped and prayed it would be clear, plain, simple, and unquestionable. He prayed for a sign.  
  
Breakfast tasted like sawdust. Mark was cooking for the whole house, and was having a ball, but he didn't fail to notice Steve's lack of appetite. He managed to find a private, quiet moment to approach his son.  
  
"Nervous?"  
  
Steve smile weakly and asked, "Is it that obvious?"  
  
Mark shook his head no and smiled back. "Only to those who know you well. You're not eating."  
  
Steve laughed a bit and said, "This is a big deal. I'm kind of scared."  
  
"That's natural, son. Just remember to breathe, and don't lock your knees when you stand in front of the altar. It'll cut off the circulation and make you pass out."  
  
"Thanks, Dad. I needed one more worry to take my mind off things."  
  
Mark grimaced and said, "Sorry."  
  
By ten o'clock, all the women had left to go get ready for the wedding, leaving Steve and the other men to sit around the house for six hours until it was time to put their tuxes on and ride to the church. Steve retreated to the gym. Because of his injured shoulder, he couldn't lift weights, and he couldn't swim, but he needed some kind of physical activity to help him think. It wasn't the beach, but running on the treadmill might be just the ticket.  
  
He'd lost all track of time when Jesse tracked him down for a talk.  
  
Steve continued running as the younger man pulled up a chair, turned it around, straddled the back, and faced him.  
  
"I have to admit, you're much calmer than I expected. I thought you'd be a nervous wreck."  
  
"Why? Really, Jess, we've been practically living together since Christmas. I know it's not a long time, but we've found we get along very well. We fit each other. A wedding just makes it official."  
  
Jesse grinned. "No, Steve. A wedding makes it permanent…more or less. It makes it a lifelong commitment."  
  
"Well, I have never known anyone I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, so I guess it's a good thing we're getting married."  
  
"I suppose," Jesse agreed. "So why are you trying to run away from it?"  
  
Steve stopped short, and nearly fell when the treadmill didn't stop with him. Grabbing the rail, he looked seriously at Jesse and asked, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Steve, you've been on that treadmill for two hours straight, running like hell. Something's eating you, and I'd like to help if I can. I figure you're either worried about nothing, or you think you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life. Why don't try to tell me about it?"  
  
Steve checked to make sure the master bath and the sauna were empty, then he looked out on the balcony to make sure it was clear. Finally, he locked the gym door and took another chair facing Jesse.  
  
He started with, "Just tell me if I'm making a big deal out of nothing, ok?" Then he proceeded to tell Jesse about what he'd overheard last night and the thoughts that had kept him awake until dawn. Finally, he said, "I just don't know what to do, Jess. Is this just jitters and cold feet, or is there a real problem?"  
  
Jesse thought a minute and asked, "Why did you ask her to marry you, Steve?"  
  
"I love her, Jess, and I want to be with her forever."  
  
"Has that changed?"  
  
"N-no."  
  
"You don't sound so sure."  
  
"It's what I want, Jess, but not if it isn't what she really wants. I don't want her to go through with this just to keep some stupid promise. If I marry her, I want it to be because she can't imagine the rest of her life without me, without waking up next to me, without seeing me across the dinner table, without tripping over my dirty laundry when I forget to put it in the hamper."  
  
"Well, Liv seems certain she'll be happy with you, Steve. Do you think you could live happily ever after if you never knew for sure whether she'd rather be with you or Keith? Could you be happy just being with her, or do you need to know she prefers you to Keith?"  
  
Steve chewed his bottom lip for a bit as he thought about the answer to that question. Jesse mused that he had never seen his best friend look so uncertain in all the time they'd known each other.  
  
There was a knock at the gym door, and they both heard Jack's voice calling, "Hey, Steve, it's almost time for lunch. Mark wants to know if there's anything special you'd like for your last meal."  
  
Steve opened the door to find an amused Jack laughing at his own bad joke. Suddenly, the smile fell off his face.  
  
"What's wrong?" Looking into the gym, Jack asked, "Jesse, is he all right?"  
  
Checking the hall, Steve grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt, pulled him into the gym, and locked the door again. He explained the entire problem to Jack much as he had for Jesse.  
  
"I agree with Jess, Steve," Jack said. "If you think the two of you can be happy regardless of how she feels about Keith, there's no point in saying anything, but if you need to know she loves you more, you have to ask."  
  
"I know, but I'm afraid of the answer I might get."  
  
Jack shrugged and said, "Then don't ask. Just accept it and be grateful for it as the gift it is."  
  
Steve gave a sardonic laugh. "Thanks for nothing, guys."  
  
Just then, they heard Mark calling up the stairs. With a worried glance, Steve looked at his friends and said, "Not a word to Dad, ok?"  
  
Jesse and Jack looked at each other uncertainly, but they agreed anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
"…Then by the powers vested in me as a minister of the gospel according to the laws of the State of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you man and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen. Those that God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride."  
  
Steve turned to Olivia. He could see her lovely face through the gossamer veil. Her hair cascaded around her face in wild, unruly curls. It was almost a living thing. True to her word, she had honored his request not to hide her freckles behind makeup. She wore pale lipstick, eye shadow, and mascara, but nothing else covered her flawless skin. Her green-and- gold eyes looked at him with so much love it made him tremble to the core. Such love was a gift, he knew; and he was determined to do everything he could to deserve it.  
  
He looked down to find the edge of the veil, and when he lifted it with shaking, ice-cold fingers, he was appalled to find Olivia gone, and Amanda in her place. He looked to the minister in wide-eyed shock, and the fool just stood there, smiling benignly and waving a hand to indicate that he should get on with it. No one in the congregation seemed to notice anything out of place.  
  
He turned back to his "bride," and before his very eyes, Amanda morphed into Cheryl. He took a staggering step back, but she held on to him. As he watched in horror, Cheryl's image changed to that of Lynn Conklin. To his relief, Lynn soon became Lily Wilson, and Lily turned into Randy Wolfe.  
  
He looked to the congregation and saw his father and friends looking on. Olivia was there, too, beaming happily, Keith beside her with an arm around her shoulders, smiling. They didn't seem to think anything was amiss.  
  
"Go on, Steve," Jesse said at his elbow. "What are you waiting for?"  
  
Steve could hear the thump-thump-thump of the blood rushing in his ears. He looked back to where he'd seen Olivia in the congregation, and she and Keith were gone. Turning back to his bride, he saw Liv again, but her image instantly faded into that of his high school sweetheart, and then into another woman he did not know. Her hair was a nondescript blondish brown, her eyes an unidentifiable changeable color. For some reason he couldn't see her whole face at once.  
  
"It must be nerves," he told himself. He closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss, trusting that Liv would be there when he opened them again. The pounding in his ears was getting louder.  
  
"Steve! Come on!" Jesse was yelling at him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve sat up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Someone was pounding at the door to the bedroom. He heard Jesse yell, "You have to be at the church in ninety minutes, Steve, and you asked me to wake you. If you don't answer, I'm coming in."  
  
Looking around to get his bearings, Steve yelled, "Ok, Jess, I'm awake, already, I'm awake. Come on in."  
  
Jesse entered the bedroom and said, "Jesus, Steve, you look like hell."  
  
"Nice to see you, too, Jess."  
  
"I mean it, Steve," Jesse said, feeling his forehead. "No fever. How are you feeling?"  
  
Steve sighed.  
  
"Like hell."  
  
"Ah, then my diagnosis was correct. Do you want to talk?"  
  
Steve shook his head no. "I'm nervous. I'm scared. What else is there to say?"  
  
Jesse sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him seriously.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"Yeah, Jess?"  
  
"You can still call it off."  
  
Steve surged out of bed and paced the room like an angry bull as he yelled at Jesse.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, Jess? I am not going to call this off. I have loved her since I met her. That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard. You know, you are very close to losing your place as my best man!"  
  
Jesse spoke in a low, soothing tone.  
  
"Look, Steve, I'm sorry if I offended you, but you've been so upset today. I just want to make sure you're ready to do this." After a pause, Jesse continued, his voice still pitched low to calm his friend. "Maybe you should postpone it, just until you figure out how Liv feels about Keith and you; or until you figure out how you feel about Liv and Keith."  
  
Steve flopped into one of the chairs by the fireplace, his anger suddenly spent.  
  
"No, Jess. There's nothing to figure out. I love her, and I want her forever." Steve grinned, "And forever starts today."  
  
"Despite what you overheard last night?"  
  
Steve nodded, "Yep. If she still wanted him, she wouldn't have said yes to me."  
  
"You don't sound convinced."  
  
Steve's voice took on a hard edge. "Well, I am, so you must be hearing things."  
  
Jesse put both hands up to show he meant no harm and said, "I'm just making sure, buddy. Let's not have another argument. I don't think your nerves could stand it."  
  
Steve answered in a softer voice, full of apology and gratitude. "I'm sorry, Jess. I shouldn't have exploded at you. I know you have my best interests at heart. I guess I'm just kind of edgy. I was having the weirdest damned dream when you woke me up. I'm ok, now, though. Really."  
  
Looking at his watch, Jesse said, "Ok, then. I suggest you get into that tux. You have to be at the church in a hour and fifteen minutes, and it takes at least half an hour to drive there."  
  
Steve grinned and said, "Yes, sir."  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark, Jack, Steve, and Jesse were gathered in the small dressing room off behind choir. Steve had felt choked by his bowtie on the way to the church and had roughly yanked it away with a grunt of frustration. Now he was having the Devil's own time getting it back on.  
  
Mark watched his son struggle to get his large, meaty, trembling hands to tie the small strip of silk into a neat bow, and his moustache twitched with amusement. His wounded shoulder was healing nicely, and already he had no need for a sling. Mark had to admit, his boy cut a fine figure in the tuxedo. Now all he needed was a straight tie.  
  
Looking at Jesse and Jack, Mark urged them out of the room with a jerk of his head. He wanted a private moment with Steve. Steve didn't even notice them depart.  
  
"Would you like some help with that, son?"  
  
"Would you? I just can't get it right."  
  
As he deftly worked on the tie, Mark said, "So, this is finally it, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," Steve admitted.  
  
"Nervous?"  
  
"Petrified."  
  
As he straightened the tidy little bow under his son's chin, Mark said, "You and Olivia are good together, son. She loves you very much, and I know you love her. This is going to work." His voice cracked as he continued, "I love you Steve, and I am so happy for you. Just don't get so wrapped up with your new bride that you forget about the old man, ok?"  
  
Steve smiled and took hold of his dad's hands.  
  
"I love you, too, Dad, and you know there's no way I could forget you. Thanks for always being there."  
  
Both men were on the verge of tears as they embraced.  
  
Jesse ducked back into the room and said, "It's time, Steve. The minister wants you at the altar."  
  
Steve took a deep breath, put on his best smile, and said, "On my way, Jess." 


	43. The Better Man

Song lyrics copyright 2001 by Trisha Yearwood.  
  
(Chapter 43. February 14. The church and the reception hall.)  
  
Steve entered the church with the minister and turned to watch the processional. He was amazed at the size of the crowd in the church. As he looked around, he recognized people from the diner, Boots, the basketball game, and Ted's wake. They'd had to open the folding partition to the back room of the sanctuary and set up folding chairs to accommodate all the guests. There were easily five hundred people gathered to see Liv married.  
  
The pastor leaned over and said, "They even shut down the third shift at the cheese plant for this wedding."  
  
He searched the crowd and was pleased to find that all of his guests were seated together at the front. Carol sat next to his dad, and they were holding hands. Aunt Dora was crying already, and Uncle Stacey had a comforting arm around her. Steve smiled a bit when he realized Norman Briggs was weeping, too, and Dolores of all people was trying to calm him. Susan and Cheryl sat watching with rapt attention, Cheryl probably remembering her wedding and Susan planning hers. Steve thought it a shame Cheryl's marriage hadn't worked, and wondered for a moment if there ever could have been something between him and her.  
  
Appalled that he would be having such thoughts at his own wedding, he stood straighter and looked down the aisle to the door of the sanctuary. At a gesture from Pastor Brennan, Dion, who had been attending the guest book, darted out the door and came back a moment later.  
  
Steve felt his heart swell as the processional music started. Jack and Amanda entered first. Ever considerate, Liv had asked Jack to be a part of the wedding both in recognition of his long-standing friendship to Steve and to give Amanda a familiar face as an escort. All of the other bridesmaids were members of Cloud Nine. The Hargrove twins, escorted by their husbands came next, then Chris Breth and Kenney. Becky and Jimmy Strawcutter, the tour guides from Gettysburg, came down the aisle just ahead of Alice Strawcutter and Cliff Redmond. Sue Redmond walked with Beechie, and Meghan Baer came down the aisle on the arm of her brother Tom. Steve felt a chill as he realized for the first time just how much Tom looked like Ted.  
  
Finally, Steve saw another friendly face. He realized the moment was drawing near as he saw Jesse enter the sanctuary with Lou Beech on his arm. He hadn't realized before how short Lou was, but she seemed just the right height for Jesse. As Jess took his place, he gave Steve a smile and comforting squeeze on the elbow. Finally, CJ came down the aisle, attended by Lou's daughter, Ginny.  
  
The wedding march started, and May Stephens stood up. Half a beat later, the whole congregation followed suit. Liv came toward him on Jud's arm. She was positively radiant, a beauty for the ages. Her gown was long, with a flowing train, a fitted bodice and sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her necklace…and her cleavage…spectacularly. Heart-shaped cutouts on the skirt and train were echoed along the sleeves, and all the hearts were filled with delicate lace. The bodice of the dress was richly embroidered with hearts, flowers, and doves.  
  
As she came closer, Steve could see her lovely face smiling softly through the almost transparent veil, her eyes aglow with lovelight. Her hair cascaded around her face in wild, unruly curls. It was almost a living thing. True to her word, she had honored his request not to hide her freckles behind makeup. She wore pale lipstick, eye shadow, and mascara, but nothing else covered her flawless skin. Her green-and-gold eyes looked at him with so much love it made him tremble to the core. Such love was a gift, he knew; and he was determined to do everything he could to deserve it.  
  
Steve felt a lump rise in his throat. She was stunning, and she was his.  
  
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…" The minister's opening remarks and welcome were drowned out by the sound of his own pulse pounding in Steve's ears. All Steve knew was he was looking at the most beautiful, wonderful, loving woman he'd ever known, and he was about to marry her, and he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing.  
  
"Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."  
  
To his own absolute horror, and to gasps of shock and surprise from the whole congregation, Steve heard himself say, "Wait!"  
  
"Steve?"  
  
Turning to Liv, he said, "I need to talk to you, outside, now." He gently took her by the arm, turned her around, and nudged her down the aisle.  
  
Keith was seated in his wheelchair at the back of the sanctuary. When Steve got to him, without even asking, he unlocked the brakes of the wheelchair, turned him around, and wheeled him out behind Liv, saying, "I need to talk to you, too."  
  
  
  
  
  
As he exited the church with Keith, Liv whirled on him, green-gold eyes snapping fire.  
  
"Steven Michael Sloan, what the hell is going on?"  
  
He locked the brakes on the wheelchair and stepped aside so he could face both Liv and Keith.  
  
"I heard you two talking last night, Liv."  
  
Suddenly the fire was gone. "Oh."  
  
Keith snapped, "How much did you hear?"  
  
"Enough to know I need to ask some questions before I go through with this." Turning to Liv, he said, "You never really answered his question last night. Do you love me more than him?"  
  
"Steve, please," Liv wept.  
  
He shook his head and said softly, "I need to know, Liv."  
  
Keith offered her his handkerchief, and she dabbed at her eyes.  
  
"It's not that easy, Steve. For twelve years, all I wanted was to come home to him. Then I met you, and you filled up the aching emptiness inside me. I was broken…damaged. I was afraid to care. You taught me how to love again. You taught me how to love you, Steve."  
  
Gently, he urged her, "Answer the question, Liv. Who do you love more?"  
  
"I don't know," she wailed.  
  
After some thought, Steve changed the question.  
  
"All things being equal, who would you rather marry?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
She always shrugged when she didn't want to say what was on her mind.  
  
Steve knew what he had to do. Subtle as it was, he knew that shrug was the sign he'd asked for earlier in the day.  
  
Stepping close to her, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head up so she had to look at him.  
  
"If this is what you really want, I'll marry you, Liv. But I *don't* want you to marry me because I treat you well, or even because we'll be happy together. I want to be the love of your life."  
  
Tears were streaming down his face and hers as Keith watched in total consternation.  
  
"I deserve to be the center of someone's universe, Liv, and I will not settle for less than that. You deserve to be with the man God made for you, and right now, I'm not sure that's me."  
  
"Oh, Steve…"  
  
"I don't want to be just another promise kept," he said in a slightly bitter tone.  
  
"You're much more than that, Steve."  
  
"Maybe, Liv, but can you stand here, in front of him," he gestured to Keith, "and honestly say you love me more than any man in the world?"  
  
She said nothing. She didn't even move.  
  
"Think about the people in the church. There must be five hundred people here, for you, Liv. I have barely more than a dozen guests, the rest are all here for *you*. This is your world, darling. You brought these people together. You *keep* them together. I don't belong here, and I can't take you away from them unless you want to be with me more than anything else in the world."  
  
"I do love you, Steve," she said. Lowering her eyes, she added, "And I made you a promise."  
  
Steve rubbed her shoulders and sighed. "I love you, too, Liv, and I want you; but more than anything, I want you to follow your heart. I'm releasing you from that promise. Do what you want. Do what will make you happiest."  
  
Turning to Keith, he said, "You have five minutes. When I come back, if she still wants to marry me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her forget you."  
  
Steve walked away stiffly. The cold February wind cut right through the thin jacket of his tuxedo. As he rounded the corner of the church, he stopped, trembling, and prayed.  
  
"Dear God, let this be the right thing, and if she chooses him, let there still be someone out there for me."  
  
He waited at least five minutes before he went back to Liv and Keith.  
  
Looking hopefully at Liv, he said, "Well?"  
  
"I love you, Steve, and I'm so, so sorry, but you're right. You deserve to be the love of some woman's life, and one day you will find her. I promise. But I'm not that woman, and as much as I love you, it will never be enough, because…God has always has had someone else in mind for me."  
  
She studied her engagement ring for a moment before taking it off and handing it to him.  
  
He shook his head. "Keep it, it was made for you."  
  
"Steve, I can't. This ring implies a promise, and my conscience will not let me keep one and not the other."  
  
Reluctantly, he accepted the ring. "What should I do with it?"  
  
She shrugged. "Keep it, sell it, throw it into the ocean for all I care. It's just metal and stones and shells. Everything it stands for is in our hearts forever."  
  
Suddenly he got down on one knee and asked, "Make me a new promise to replace the old one?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Promise me that you will live joyfully, laugh often, love passionately, cling to you happiness, and let your sorrows go. Promise to think of me often and fondly, and when you do, know that I am happy for you. Know that you have shown me how to have faith. Know that I will be ok."  
  
"Oh, Steve," she nodded. "I promise."  
  
He slipped the ring back on her finger. "Will you let me give away the bride?"  
  
"Are you sure you want to?"  
  
"Yeah," he said after some thought. "I really do want to. More than anything, I want to see you as happy as you can be. If that means giving you away to someone else, it would be an honor and a privilege. I love you so much, Liv, there's no other way to show it."  
  
She gave him a tender, gentle kiss on the cheek. Then she stepped back to stand by Keith.  
  
"I…We will never be able to thank you enough, Steve."  
  
"You don't have to," he smiled. "I think this is why I'm here. A while ago, you told me God has a plan for all of us. I'm not sure when it happened, but I started believing that. Maybe I was just supposed to bring you home."  
  
Turning to Keith, Steve continued, "Forget about the farmers with their pitchforks and scythes. Forget about the cops and all the people whose jobs she's saved. Forget about Jeffrey Geiger. If you hurt her, I will come back here, and I will tear you apart with my bare hands."  
  
Keith eyed him warily, and asked, "Why are you doing this?"  
  
"Because I love her."  
  
"You could have had her, beach bum. Why let her go?"  
  
"Because I love her that much."  
  
Keith nodded, accepting the explanation, and said, "You're a better man than I am, Steve."  
  
Steve broke into a grin. Then he started to laugh.  
  
"What's so funny," Keith wanted to know.  
  
"Invite me back for your silver wedding anniversary, and I'll explain."  
  
Just then, Jesse poked his head out the door, "Yo, Steve, the natives are getting restless. What's up?"  
  
Looking at Keith, he said, "You want your brother to stand up for you?"  
  
Keith nodded.  
  
Steve told Jesse, "Take Keith to the altar, Jess. Tell Jud to have a seat, tell the minister there's going to be a wedding and he should cue the organist when he sees Liv and me at the door. Then switch places with Kenney."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
Nodding, he said with certainty, "I'm sure."  
  
When Jesse reentered the sanctuary and pushed Keith to the altar, there was much murmured speculation and discussion. The muttering continued as the best man held a whispered conversation with the minister and then switched places with one of the groomsmen.  
  
Before they entered the church again, Liv looked at Steve and asked, "Is this legal?"  
  
"Yep. Since the license isn't filed until after the ceremony anyway, you can wait and apply for a new one when you get back from the honeymoon."  
  
Then she stopped and turned to him.  
  
"Will you be ok?"  
  
She saw a shudder run through Steve, but when he spoke, it was with a steady voice.  
  
"This hurts, Liv. It's hard, but it feels right. It will take some time, but I'll be ok. Now let's go."  
  
This time the wedding went off without a hitch. The bewildered congregation readily accepted the strange turn of events when Steve gave away the bride and offered a few words of explanation.  
  
"I love Olivia more than any woman I have ever met," he said, "but she and Keith were made for each other. I am merely an interloper, and it would not be fair for me to come between them. I am pleased and proud to be a part of this special day. I wish them both much happiness in the years to come."  
  
  
  
  
  
As they filtered out of the church, Steve's family and friends gravitated toward him. He was profoundly grateful for the support. His dad put an arm around him and said, "What do you want to do, son?"  
  
Still in a daze, sheltered from the pain and loss by the shock of what had happened, he said, "I think we ought to go to the reception, Dad. We should show Liv how happy we are for her."  
  
"You sure you're up for that," Jack asked.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'll be ok. Just, stick close, ok guys?"  
  
Of course, everyone agreed to 'stick close.'  
  
Steve ate very little at the reception. The food was good, but he had no stomach for it. He watched dispassionately as Liv and Keith had their first dance as man and wife. He sat in his chair and held her hands as she danced around him. A while later, Jud danced with her. At some point, they brought around slices of wedding cake, and Steve tried just a bite. He'd heard it was bad luck if every guest didn't have at least a little bit of cake.  
  
He tried to respond when someone wanted to make small talk, but again and again, he slipped into his own little world. He found himself remembering moments from the past...God, it had been exactly six months. He realized he wouldn't change a thing, even if he could. It had all been wonderful, even the worst parts were…awesome…because Liv had been there. As the dancing started again, he went to the DJ and requested a song.  
  
"I'm not sure she'll want to dance with me. If she doesn't, play something else, ok?"  
  
The DJ was another old friend of Liv's and he understood Steve's request. Liv was just finishing a dance with Beechie when he asked to cut in.  
  
"You don't mind, do you, Liv?"  
  
"Oh, God, no, Steve, not at all. I was hoping you'd ask."  
  
He smiled. "Good. I requested a special song."  
  
Olivia frowned and then smiled, a bit sadly, as she recognized the music. As the vocals started, she reached up and wiped a tear from Steve's cheek.  
  
  
  
  
  
If I had known how this would end,  
  
If I had read the last page first,  
  
If I had had the strength to walk away,  
  
If I had known how this would hurt,  
  
I would have loved you anyway,  
  
I'd do it all the same,  
  
Not a second I would change,  
  
Not a touch that I would trade.  
  
Had I known my heart would break,  
  
I'd have loved you anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
She laid her head against his chest and tapped out the rhythm of his heartbeat, a little faster than usual, against his ribs as she sang along with the next verse.  
  
  
  
  
  
It's bitter sweet to look back now,  
  
At memories withered on the vine,  
  
Just to hold you close to me  
  
For a moment in time.  
  
I would have loved you anyway,  
  
I'd do it all the same,  
  
Not a second I would change,  
  
Not a touch that I would trade.  
  
Had I known my heart would break,  
  
I'd have loved you anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She stepped back and stared into his eyes and they continued to dance, neither of them aware that they were the only ones on the floor. All the other guests and the wedding party were watching them spellbound. The two of them were lost inside each other one last time.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And even if I'd seen it coming  
  
You'd still have seen me running  
  
Right into your arms.  
  
I would have loved you anyway,  
  
I'd do it all the same,  
  
Not a second I would change,  
  
Not a touch that I would trade.  
  
Had I known my heart would break,  
  
I'd have loved you anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As the song wound down, Steve swallowed hard and said, "I've got to go now. I can't stay any longer. Be happy and live a good life. You might not hear from me for a long time, Liv. It hurts too much."  
  
She gently caressed his face, again wiping his tears away, still heedless of her own.  
  
"Steven Michael Sloan, I will always think of you fondly and treasure the memories of what we had, but I will always love you most for what you have given me today by letting me go."  
  
He kissed her hand and walked away without another word. Halfway out of the room, he heard her call his name.  
  
"Steve!"  
  
He froze, and she walked to him. As she came to stand before him, he looked away, closing his eyes and turning his head.  
  
"Please, Liv, I can't," he nearly sobbed.  
  
"I'll keep my promise," she said softly, and stepped aside to let him escape. 


	44. I Promise

(Chapter 44. February 28. Malibu.)  
  
"I'll get the mail, Dad. You open up the house and turn everything back on, ok?"  
  
"All right, son."  
  
Steve got the mail and let himself in by the downstairs door to his apartment.  
  
After the wedding and the reception, it had finally hit Steve what he had done. Liv had sent word that he and his guests could stay at her house until they needed to leave for the airport. She and Keith had found other accommodations. While CJ and Dion slept and the rest of his friends and family sat up in the living room worrying, Jack, Jesse, and Amanda sat through that first night with him in the rumpus room while he got quietly loaded on 'cheap' wine from the green racks in the wine cellar. About five in the morning, they finally hauled him up the stairs and poured him into the bed. As much as it hurt, and as drunk as he was, he was still certain he had done the right thing, but it had been terribly difficult to accept.  
  
He spent most of the next day hung over, resting in bed or throwing up in the master bath. One time, when Jesse came to check on him, he found Steve slumped on the floor in front of the toilet, vomiting and laughing. Thinking Steve had finally snapped, Jess was about to go get Mark when Steve grabbed him by the wrist and said, "No. I was just thinking, this is *exactly* how things got started with Liv. It seems I've come full circle. I'm ok, Jess, I just found it amusing."  
  
A few minutes later, Mark and Jack found the two of them, still in the bathroom, laughing and reminiscing about the Christmas party and other amusing moments they had shared with Liv. Suddenly, Steve wiped away tears of laughter and said in a desolate voice, "Let's go home, Dad."  
  
Knowing Steve needed time to adjust before he went back to work, Mark had rented a car at the airport and he and Steve had driven back home, stopping where they felt like it, and even seeing some of the sights in various states they hadn't visited before. They'd stopped and visited Jack on the way, and spent a day skiing.  
  
Now they were home.  
  
As Steve shuffled through the mail, he separated his from his dad's and threw away the junk. Suddenly, he saw a postcard that made him freeze. In the top left corner of the picture were the words, 'We are…' and in the bottom left, he read, '…Penn State.' He stared at the picture, an aerial view of the campus, for several minutes before he dared turn it over and read it.  
  
My darling Steve,  
  
  
  
Olivia's handwriting was remarkably clear for a doctor's.  
  
I am so glad you could be with me today. Some  
  
of my happiest memories are of this place. I hope  
  
to make others with you. I feel blessed that one  
  
of the best parts of my life is with me now as I  
  
revisit the other.  
  
I'll love you forever.  
  
Liv  
  
  
  
He sighed and felt sad for a minute as he chewed his lower lip, trying to decide what to do with the postcard. Making a decision, he got up, found an old shoebox, and put in it the post card, the teddy bear, the letter she'd written him when she went to the mountains, his boutonniere from the wedding (which no one knew he'd kept), and a few other items she'd left around his apartment. Then he put the box on a shelf in his closet, promising himself that he'd decide later what to do about it.  
  
He hurriedly went through the rest of the mail, and bounding up the steps to his dad's part of the house, he nearly ran over Mark as he was headed down to check on him.  
  
"Sorry about that, Dad."  
  
"It's ok, Steve. You were down there so long I was starting to get worried."  
  
"Oh. I, uh…I got a postcard from Liv. It was very sweet. She sent it to me the day we visited Penn State."  
  
"I see."  
  
Steve got a glass and drew himself a drink of water from the faucet. Then he went out on the deck. After a few minutes, Mark joined him.  
  
"You ok, son?"  
  
"Yeah, dad. Better every day."  
  
Steve was staring out at the waves, but Mark could tell he was not really seeing them.  
  
"Want to talk?"  
  
Steve was silent a moment longer, then he told his dad about the day he'd discussed his vision of the future with Olivia.  
  
"It was really nothing special, Dad. I just saw us all having a picnic, Jesse and Susan, Amanda and somebody. CJ and Dion were grown. You were there, and there was this redheaded girl walking the beach with a young man. She was your granddaughter."  
  
"Your daughter with Olivia."  
  
Closing his eyes, Steve nodded.  
  
"What do you see out there now?"  
  
A slow smile spread across Steve's face.  
  
"Pretty much the same thing. Your granddaughter's still there, but I'm not sure what she looks like anymore; and there's still someone beside me, Dad. I'm not alone. Olivia promised me I'd find *her* someday, and I do believe I will."  
  
Patting his son's back, Mark said, "I'm glad, son. What do you say we go to Antonio's for dinner?"  
  
"Sounds good to me, Dad."  
  
Mark went inside to freshen up a bit before going out, but Steve stayed on the deck, looking out at the ocean.  
  
Closing his eyes, he conjured again his image of the future.  
  
Where the dunes leveled off above the high tide line, was an old man with snowy white hair sitting in a folding chair, a demolished picnic spread out on the blanket at his feet. A group of young people played in the surf, a young woman and her escort, two handsome young black men and their dates, a blonde kid who was considerably younger than the rest. Three couples sat on the edges of the blanket, enjoying one another's company and chattering with the old man. A tall, very elegant black woman sat at the end of the blanket, and a man, obviously her husband put his arm around her. To the old man's left was a small blond guy, just starting to go gray, who was teasing an attractive blonde woman. On the old man's right, was big guy who looked a lot like the old man. His hair was getting pretty gray, and he was stretched out full length on the blanket. His head rested in a woman's lap.  
  
For a just one moment, the unknown woman looked directly at him and her features resolved into a recognizable face. Smiling, he said, "Don't worry. Whoever you are, wherever you are, you are the love of my life. You were made for me."  
  
Her features blurred and came into focus again briefly.  
  
"I will find you. I promise."  
  
THE END…FOR NOW 


End file.
